Miraculous Drabbles
by callmecirce
Summary: This is a series of drabbles written in response to asks over on Tumblr. Most will be short, and they will cover a broad range of relationships and themes. I am treating these as speed writes, so I'm editing only for grammar and spelling, so please forgive me if these aren't as polished as what I usually try to post.
1. LadyNoir, Linger

Chat Noir landed softly on the rooftop behind his partner, surprised that she hadn't disappeared immediately into the anonymity of her civilian life, as she usually did. "My lady? Is everything ok?"

"Hmm?" Ladybug blinked slowly, and dragged her attention from the Paris skyline to focus on her partner's concerned face. "Oh, hello Chat."

He took in the tense set of her shoulders and her pensive expression, and felt more certain that something was bothering her. "Are you alright? It's rare for you to linger after a battle like this."

"Oh, yes, I'm—I'm fine. Just lost in thought."

"I guess you've already recharged, then?"

She nodded. " Tikki couldn't have gotten me home without it, and since I don't have to rush back…" She trailed off with a shrug.

He tilted his head curiously. "Are you…avoiding something?" He hazarded.

"Something like that."

"Would you like some company?" He stepped closer to her but didn't touch her. He was unsure of his reception. "I could linger with you."

"I'd like that, _minou_." She leaned back against him with a sigh. "Thanks."

His cheeks warmed at the unexpected endearment, and he timidly put his arm around her shoulders. "Of course, my lady."


	2. MariChat, Scar Tissue

Chat Noir dragged his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time, and paced away from the petite girl in the lounger. "Mari, please, just let it go."

"No." Marinette crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest, and glared. "That's abuse, Chat, and it's not ok."  
"I'm not abused!" Chat Noir threw up his hands in exasperation. "He's never once lifted a hand to me, or allowed anyone else to do so either."

"Neglect _is_ abuse."

"I haven't been neglected. I've never wanted for anything a day in my life."

"Except time, love, and attention." He flinched, and her expression softened. "You don't have to hit someone to hurt them, and not all scar tissue exists in the open where anyone can see it."

"Damnit, Mari," he growled. "I regret ever saying anything to you about it."

"Well the cat's out of the bag now, you stubborn cat. Why won't you talk to someone about this? Someone who could help you."

He scoffed. "It doesn't matter now, I'll be 18 next week."

Marinette cursed foully under her breath, and Chat's brows rose in surprise. "You father is lucky that I don't know who you are under that mask, _Chaton_."

"Jesus, would you settle down already?"

"No, because fuck him," she ranted. "No child should be treated like that, and especially not you. God, I thought _Adrien's_ home life was bad."

"Shit." He pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. One day revealing himself to her just got more complicated.


	3. Ladrien, Say My Name

She was wrapped around his arm. Again. He bit back a sigh. "You know I'd stay, Chloe, but I already have plans and you know how my father is—"

"Oh, your father adores me! He won't mind accommodating me." Chloe tightened her grip on his arm, and batted her lashes at him in a way that she probably thought was both coy and alluring. Adrien thought it just looked like she had something in her eye. "From the hints he's dropped, I think he's probably already chosen a venue for our wedding!"

She tittered, and he choked on air. _Wedding? Uh, no._ He fought to keep a grimace from his face, and tried to lean away from her without _looking like_ he was leaning away but she clung to him like a limpet. A simpering, lemon-shelled limpet with too much makeup.

"Chloe, I'm flattered, but I really don't think—"

"Oh, Adrikins. You really are too much. Of course we _belong_ together." She pressed herself closer to his body, trapping him against the front desk in her father's hotel with her face turned up to his, clearly expecting a kiss.

"Er, Chloe isn't this, uh—I mean, I don't—"

"Am I interrupting?"

"No!" Adrien turned his attention to the new comer with relief, and then surprise.

"Yes! Can't you see that I'm—" The hotel heiress turned to face the interloper as she spoke, and broke off with a gasp she saw who it was. "L-ladybug? What are you doing here?"

Ladybug looked between them, her expression inscrutable, and then turned to Adrien with a businesslike smile. "I've been sent to escort you home, Adrien. For your own safety. Will you come with me please?"

Chloe narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Surely my Adrikins is safe enough here."

"I'm sorry, Chloe. My instructions were clear."

"I guess I'll see you later then, Chloe. _Ciao_."

Ladybug turned on her heel and led the way out of the hotel. Adrien fell into step with her, smiling, until they got outside, out of earshot. "So, my father sent you to find me, huh?" He caught her arm and arched a brow at her, knowing perfectly well that she'd lied through her teeth.

"Uh, no." She had the grace to blush. "You just looked really uncomfortable, and I wanted to…rescue you?"

"Yeah, Chloe can be a little—over bearing."

"That's one way to put it."

He spluttered a laugh, and scratched the back of his head absently. "I, uh, guess I should get going. I actually do need to get home. Thanks for the rescue, m-Ladybug."

He turned to go, but she caught his arm. "A-adrien, wait! I uh, I could take you h-home, if you wanted me to."

"I love that," he murmured, a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"Th-that I could take you home?"

Adrien realized that he'd said it out loud, and his cheeks flooded with warmth. He cleared his throat. "Ah, n-no. I meant, I love it…when you say my name."

"Oh," she breathed, her eyes wide. "W-well, Adrien, would you like a lift home?"

He stepped closer to her, his heart pounding. "Sure."

She unhooked the yoyo from her hip, and wrapped an arm around his waist as she began to swing it. "Hold on to me, Adrien," she murmured, and then they were airborne.


	4. LadyNoir, Criminal

**Speaks** asked for LadyNoir/Criminal, and while I know that this is not at all what she was expecting—it's what I came up with. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway.

* * *

Bridgette stumbled downstairs to the kitchen sleepily, rubbing her eyes and yawning. It was far too early to be up; even the sun wasn't up yet. But for whatever reason, she woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. The answer here?

Coffee.

She reached the bottom and absently flipped the light switch, only to freeze in shock at the large black cat crouched on the kitchen island, staring at her with wide green eyes.

"Wha—how did you get in here?"

Her voice must have startled it, because it jumped straight up into the air and then scuttled to the floor. Its sudden movement certainly startled her; she jumped out of her skin with a shriek fit to wake the dead. She pressed a hand to her thundering heart, telling herself to _calm down_.

"Here, kitty, kitty," she called softly, walking further into the kitchen.

There was a noise at the top of the stairs, and she turned to see Felix shuffling down towards her. "Bridgette? I heard you yell, is everything ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. A cat got in here somehow, and it startled me."

He blinked. "A cat?"

"Yeah, a big black one."

He gestured behind her. "You mean that one?"

She turned and saw that the cat in question was peering at them from around the corner of the island. She crouched very slowly, and held her hand out. "Here, kitty. I'm not going to hurt you," she said soothingly.

It blinked its impossibly green eyes at her and tilted its head as if considering her words. Then it took a few tentative steps forward and meowed.

"Are you a talker, then? You certainly are a pretty _chat noir_ , aren't you?"

"Don't even think about it, Bri."

"Oh, hush, Felix. I'm just saying hello. Why don't you start the coffee?"

He grumbled under his breath, but moved around the other side of the kitchen to do as she asked. "Well, I know how that mangy cat got in. He ripped out the screen in the window over the sink. He sighed theatrically. "As if I didn't have enough to do already. Stupid cat."

She smiled at his grumbling, and sat on the floor to wait for this _Chat Noir_ to come closer. "So you broke in like a criminal, didn't you? I guess that makes you a cat burglar," she crooned.

"You're not as funny as you think you are, Bri."

The both ignored Felix.

The cat stood and flicked his long tail, and sauntered a few steps closer to her. He stopped just out of reach, and sat again. "Meow," he said, flicking his tail again.

"Come on, pretty. Will you please let me pet you?"

"Mrow!" He meandered a bit closer, and she held her hand out to him. He considered her for another moment, then deigned to sniff her delicately.

"Can I pet you?" She moved her hand slowly, but he still shied away. She froze, allowing him time to sniff her again, and he rubbed his face along the edge of her hand. Still moving slowly, she put her fingers to her ear and gave a light scratch. To her surprise, he bumped her hand again, and began to purr. "Oh, aren't you a sweet heart?"

She stroked her hand over his head and down his back, noting the absence of a collar. "What are you doing here, without a collar? You're obviously someone's pet."

"Meoow." He bumped her hand again, then moved to the door and looked back at her expectantly.

"You want out?"

"Mrow." He ran back to wind around her body, then padded back to the door and stretched up to paw at the handle. "Mrow!"

"Ok, ok, I can take a hint." She followed him and opened the door, smiling when he darted out. Strangely, though, he stopped only a few meters away, and looked back over his shoulder at her. "Go home, Chat Noir!"

"Mow." He came back and twined himself around her legs, making an unusual chirping sound.

"What? I opened the door for you, you should go home."

He moved a few meters away, and looked back at her again. "Meow!"

"Felix, I think he wants me to follow him."

"He's a cat, Bri. He's just being a cat."

She slid her feet into the old shoes by the door, and pecked him on the cheek. "Well, it can't hurt to see, right? It's not so dark out anymore. I'll be right back."

"If something happens to you, it'll be your own fault!" He called after her as the door closed.

"Ok, you've got me out here, now what?"

He darted away and she followed him, increasingly sure that that's what he wanted. He kept coming back again to rub at her ankles, as if making sure that she was staying with him. "Where in the world are you taking me, cat?"

"Meow!" He led her to another town house several buildings up the street, ran right up to the front door, and pawed at the door, crying.

"I can't go in there, cat, that's not my house!"

"Mrooow!"

Bridgette approached the house, and noticed the stained glass ladybugs in the window just to the right of the front door. "Oh, I know who lives here. It's the older lady with the red and black Volkswagon. The one with the pretty garden out back."

"MROW!" He circled her legs again and returned to the door, reaching up again to paw at the door knob. This time, though, he leaned his weight against it and it pushed open, showing that it hadn't been latched properly. He darted through.

"Oh. Well, that's not good." Bridgette walked up to the door and knocked gently, but there was no answer. "Hello? Is everything ok, here?"

"Mow!" The cat came back out, bumped his head into her shin, and then slipped back into the house.

"Uh, this is going to sound weird, but I think your cat wants me to come inside. Is that ok?" Still no answer. Hmm. "O-ok, I'm going to come in now, uh, Mme…uh, Mme Agreste!

She pushed at the door, but there was something on the other side, preventing it from opening all the way. Deep foreboding bloomed in her chest, and she pushed again, opening it just far enough for her to slip inside. The old woman was collapsed on the other side of the door, the cat pacing anxiously around her. Bridgette felt herself pale and knelt to check for a pulse with shaking fingers—and heaved a sigh of relief. It was thready, but it was there.

She put the call in to 112 and answered the dispatcher's questions as well as she was able to, and agreed to wait there until help could arrive. Then, sitting on the floor next to the woman, she called Felix to explain what had happened. The cat crawled into her lap almost immediately, and sat there purring as she stroked his head with one hand, and gently held the woman's fingers with her other.


	5. LadyNoir, Get Off

Because **pagaininpurple** wanted "Fluffy humour with Ladynoir", **seasonofthegeek** wanted a non-scary akuma, and I wanted to write drunk Chat. Ta-da!

* * *

Ladybug leapt to the ground and looked around the quad in confusion. An akuma had _definitely_ been reported at this end of the university, but this didn't look like ground zero for an akuma attack; it looked like the late stages of a frat party. Given that it was after midnight on the weekend, at a university, that didn't seem too unusual. She swung her yoyo lazily and wandered over to a small group of students, who were drunkenly discussing…anime?

"Uh, excuse me," she said, tapping the guy closest to her on the shoulder. "Is everything ok here? Someone reported an akuma in this area."

"What?" He blinked owlishly at her, and then his face lit with recognition. "OH! Hey look guys, it's Ladybug!"

"Ladybug! Hi!"

"Oh my god, you're here!"

"It's Ladybug!"

"Um, hello." She stepped back in surprise at the exuberant greeting, and waved awkwardly. "You haven't seen an akuma around here, have you?"

"I don't know about any akumas, but this fat guy came around and hooked us all up with drinks!" They all held up their identical drinks with big loopy grins. "Santé," he called, and then they were all knocking glasses and drinking merrily.

She frowned at this. A fat man going around giving out alcohol? Could that be the akuma? Or just a frat guy being a good host? She eyed their violently purple cups.

Probably the akuma.

She turned and slipped away from the group, wondering where he could have gone. And where was Chat? Normally, they'd have found one another by this point, though admittedly, this was not the usual run of akuma. She brought up her yoyo to try to contact him, only to snap her head up when she heard her name—just in time to be knocked to the ground by a large, leather-clad body.

"Ohh, that didn't feel good." They were sprawled out in the grass, with his body pinning hers to the ground. "Chat, are you ok?"

He pushed himself up on his hands and looked down at her with a goofy smile. "Ladybug, you're here! Now we can really get this party started."

She narrowed her eyes. "Chat? Are you _drunk_?"

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. Or at least, he tried to. He missed his chin and poked himself in the cheek. "I'm not sure I would say drunk, necessarily. But tipsy? Yeah. I'm definitely tipsy."

"Ugh, Chat, get off of me!" She shoved at his shoulder and he rolled off of her to flop on his back in the grass. "You _are_ drunk! Why would you drink something from an akuma?"

His mouth dropped open in outrage, and he sat up to glare at her indignantly. "Give me a little credit here, LB. I didn't drink anything. He has a wine cask strapped to his back, and it was tapped with a spray nozzle…thing. He sprayed me with it."

"…Right. So this akuma—"

"Bacchus."

"Bacchus?"

"Yeah. That's his name. Bacchus. You know, as in the ancient Roman god of wine and merry-making?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "Ok. So _Bacchus_ is just going around getting people drunk? Why?"

"No idea, he just seems to want everyone to party, and have a good time. He didn't even try to take my Miraculous."

"He…didn't?"  
"Nope! And I know Hawkmoth was trying to push him to it, but do you know what he said? He told Hawkmoth to—and I quote—'get lit and get laid'. I mean, how great is that?"

Ladybug blinked, opened her mouth to speak, shut it, shook her head, and tried again. "So, where is this Bacchus? We need to—"

"Ladybug, have I ever told you how much I love you?"

She blinked at him. "Chat—"

"No, really. I mean, you're the best! I couldn't ask for a better partner. Not even Nino. You're waay prettier than Nino, and you're wonderful and I—"

"Chat! Now is not the time!" She grabbed his hand and started towing him behind her. "Let's take care of this akuma, and then if you're still trashed, we can have this conversation. Now come on, before you start drunk dialing people…"

"Oh my lady, I love it when you get aaalllll grabby and _sassy_."


	6. Hawk Moth & Nooroo, Don't Speak

"Ah, Nooroo. You have someone for me, then?"

"Yes, master. But I must warn you: I do not believe that it will be an efficient use of power to take this one."

"I will be the judge of that, thank you. Nooroo, dark wings rise!"

"So be it…"

Hawkmoth raised his arms as the transformation took him, imbuing him with the power that he craved. He curled his fingers into a tight fist, determined to make the most of this opportunity, no matter what the kwami said. "Insolent bug," he muttered. "We shall see who is wrong, and who is victorious!"

There was an echo of skepticism from his miraculous, and he gritted his teeth. "So who is this likely candidate? Ahh, yes. The joy of success tempered by the bitter disappointment that no one is around to share it. I see great potential here. Fly away, my little akuma, and evilise him!"

Hawkmoth watched as the deep purple butterfly fluttered to the window and away, willing it to fly faster, to reach its target with greater haste. He felt the urge to pace, but tamped it down, forcing himself to remain still, with his hands resting calmly on the head of his cane.

His akuma would take his newest champion, and it would be the beginning of the end for Ladybug and Chat Noir. He allowed his lips to curl into a smile.

* * *

"Bacchus, I am Hawkmoth. I understand that congratulations are in order. I will give you the power of that ancient god, to draw all of Paris into celebration with you as you so richly deserve, but you must agree to help me in return."

"Santé, Hawkmoth. Let's do it!"

The villain felt his power take the young man, transforming him from a plump, dejected mortal into the god of the vine, and watched through his eyes as he made his way through the university, reducing the student body to a drunken party—whether they wished to participate or not.

As always, he watched anxiously, waiting for the other Miraculous wielders to make their appearance, to provide him with the opportunity to seize what he so desperately desired. He was rewarded, soon enough, with the appearance of Chat Noir, and he felt his heart rate increase.

"You're having a party, and didn't invite me?" The cheeky cat asked, spinning his staff with an unnecessary flourish.

"Naw, man, you're invited! Everyone is invited." He pulled a purple cup from the bottomless sleeve mounted on the cask at his back, and dispensed some of the deep red wine from the nozzle. He held it out to Chat Noir invitingly. "Care for a drink?"

"I'll have to pass this time, uh—"

"Bacchus," he supplied jovially.

"Bacchus, nice! From the Roman pantheon, right? I always liked him."

"Right? Nothing like a bit of drunken debauchery when you want to kick back and celebrate something." He held the cup out again, wiggling it a bit. "You sure you don't want to partake?"

"Sorry, no drinking when I'm on the clock."

"Well, that's too bad then." He tipped the cup back and drained it himself, then pulled the nozzle from its holster and pointed it at the black-clad hero. "I'm afraid I just can't take no for an answer."

"Oh shi—" Chat dove, but it was too late. He was caught in the spray and rendered instantly intoxicated. His roll ended in an inelegant sprawl, and he clutched his head in confusion.

"Welcome to the party, Chat Noir! Let me know when your girl gets here, won't you?" He poured himself another drink, and raised it to the confused cat. "Santé!"

Bacchus turned from Chat Noir, and Hawkmoth shrieked in fury. "No! His Miraculous! Take his ring you idiot! He's disarmed, this is the perfect opportunity to take his ring!"

"Nah, he's just here for the party. A good host would never take advantage of a drunk guest."

Hawkmoth's hands shook with his fury. This was a golden opportunity, and his champion was _wasting_ it! "You _will_ go back and take his Miraculous! _Now_!" He used their empathic connection to trigger pain, thinking to coerce obedience, but to his surprise the man just laughed.

"I just completed my post-grad degree while dealing with chronic migraines. Compared to what I've been living with for years, that just tickles, man." He tipped his cup back again, draining it. "Take a bit of advice, man. You need to lay off this Hawkmoth thing, get lit, and get _laid_. It'll do you a world of good."

Hawkmoth felt his jaw drop, utterly bemused by this turn of events. He watched helplessly as his champion meandered through the university, turning it into one, big, useless party. He considered simply recalling his akuma, but he refused to give Nooroo the satisfaction of giving up. He was aware of the faint echo of amusement from his Miraculous, but he would not acknowledge it.

It was actually a relief when Ladybug appeared out of no-where to snatch the cup away and crush it beneath her foot. When it was over, he dismissed Nooroo from the brooch, not bothering to catch the spent kwami. He tumbled to the floor to land amid the harmless white butterflies, and eyed his master knowingly, in spite of his exhaustion.

"Don't speak," the man said, refusing even to look at the kwami. "Not a word, Nooroo. Not. A. Word."


	7. Gabriel & Nathalie, Almost Lost You

Written in response to this ask from **lalunaunita** on Tumblr:  
"Hi! Can I ask for #7, platonic/friendship, with Nathalie and Gabriel? Hope so, have a great day."

* * *

"Foolish woman, you're supposed to run _away_ from rampaging akumas!"

Nathalie arched an immaculate brow at her employer, and tugged her torn, soot-stained blazer into place. "Sir, you're the one who told me never to let any harm come to your master sketch book, under any circumstances."

"My sketch b—"

She held it up calmly, and he realized that what he'd taken for her tablet was actually his scketch book. "I believe it may have been slightly damaged, but it's in excellent condition, considering."

The usually unflappable Gabriel Agreste stared, dumbfounded, at his assistant. She lowered the book with a frown.

"Sir? Are you alright? Were you injur—"

"Damnit, Nathalie, I don't care about the book." He knocked it carelessly from her hands and pulled her into a hug. "I almost lost _you_."

The equally unflappable Nathalie froze, every bit as stunned as her employer had just been. In all her years of working for him, the man had never done more than to shake her hand on the day she'd been hired. And now he was hugging her?

What was the protocol here? Hug him back? Wait for him to recall himself, and pretend it hadn't happened?

"S-sir?" Her voice came out in a squeak, and she winced.

He stiffened and released her as if he'd been burned, his eyes wide and an uncharacteristic blush staining his cheeks. He cleared his throat, and arranged his face into its normal, neutral expression. "In the future, please refrain from endangering yourself, regardless of the reason. I would hate to have to train a new assistant, Nathalie. It would be terribly inconvenient."

She blinked. "Yes, I suppose it would be."

"Indeed." He inclined his head, and turned on his heel to stride to the waiting car.

She stared after him for a moment, utterly bemused by the events of the last five minutes.

"Will you be joining us, Mlle Sancouer?"

She jolted, straightening her ruined blazer once more. "Of course, sir." She slid into the car opposite her employer, and turned her face to the window to hide her smile.


	8. MariChat, Don't Lie

Written in response to this ask from **Maerynn** on Tumblr:  
"Marichat or Adrienette 40- don't lie?"

* * *

"Don't lie, Princess. You know you want it."

"Absolutely not." Marinette crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest, and stuck her pert nose into the air.

"What's the matter?" Chat Noir moved around the lounger to sit next to her, and playfully booped her haughty nose. "Are you afraid you might like it?"

Her eyes snapped open on an indignant huff. "Of course not! Unlike you, I actually have _standards_."

"Mm-hmm. And your personal bias in favor of your parents' bakery has nothing to do with it, right?"

She sniffed. "It's not my fault that our baked goods are superior."

He snickered. "Come on Princess. Just one little taste, and then if you're right, you can go back to talking smack about my new pastry chef."

"Fine. One little taste, and then you have to promise to shut up about this new chef."

Chat whooped delightedly, and dipped his spoon into the _Sachertorte_ , scooping up a generous bite of the dense Viennese delicacy. "Open wide, Princess," he taunted, and laughed when she obeyed with a glare. He pulled the spoon from her mouth, watching her response closely.

She continued to glare only until the rich flavor of the admittedly delicious dessert fully registered on her tongue. Then her expression melted into one of bliss, and she moaned in appreciation.

"HA! I knew it! It's amazing, right?"

Marinette's eyes flew open in dismay. "Damnit," she sighed, twisting her lips to the side in an expression of resignation as she eyed the torte. "Can I have another bite?"


	9. Fluffy Adrienette, Linger

Written in response to this ask on Tumblr:  
"Hello friend, if you're still taking writing prompts would you mind doing #31- linger with older Adrien and Mari for romance/fluff. Thank you!"

* * *

"Have I ever told you how much I like it when you wear your hair like this?" Adrien leaned over the back of her chair, fiddling with the short ribbons holding her hair back.

"No."

"You used to wear it like this all the time."

Marinette set down her pencil and looked pointedly at Adrien. "Have I ever told you how difficult it is to get my homework done, with you in my dorm room?"

He smiled sheepishly, and sat on her bed. "You might have mentioned it."

"Is everything ok?" She closed her notebook and turned to face him fully. "You usually only come here when something is bothering you."

"That's not true!"

She said nothing, but arched her brow skeptically.

"Ok, maybe it's a little true." He hesitated, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. "Actually, I just, missed you."

Her lips parted in surprise. "Missed me?"

"Yeah. Is—is that ok?"

"Of course." She tilted her head, and began re-tying her ribbons, which he'd loosened. "We're friends, right?"

"Yeah. Friends." His eyes dropped, and he rubbed his hands over his thighs absently.

He sounded almost…disappointed? She licked her lips, drawing the bottom one between her teeth to nibble at it thoughtfully. "I, um, really need to finish this assignment, but if you'd like to linger for a bit, maybe we could go grab something to eat after?"

His eyes returned to her face, something like hope shining in the green. "I'd like that. A lot."


	10. ChloNath, Sometimes

Written in response to this ask on Tumblr:  
"How about a chlonath response to other weddings (ie djwifi, Adrienette, even Maylene and Ivan)? I could see her getting very worked up about others getting married when she isn't. I also see him being very amused by that."  
AND this suggestion from **maerynn** :  
"clonath preparing their wedding?"  
BOTH of which were responses to my "Quick, someone ask me to write a ChloNath drabble, so I have an excuse to write one!" on Tumblr this morning. I have no self control, apparently. Oh, and I chose to incorporate the "sometimes" prompt, because why not?

* * *

"This is gross." Chloe set down her empty champagne glass, scowling.

"Not everyone can afford _Dom Perignon_ , Chlo."

"Stupid tomato." She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't talking about the champagne, though now that you mention it, it is subpar."

Nathanaël's lips twitched in amusement. "This is not gross, this is sweet."

"They're being nauseating again."

"They're newlyweds. This is their wedding reception. They're supposed to be nauseating."

"Why am I here?"

"Because you're not actually the raging bitch you want everyone to think you are."

"You're such a pain sometimes." She picked up her champagne glass and scowled into it. "Why is this still empty? If I have to watch Ivan and Mylene hang all over one another, I'm not going to do it sober."

Nathanaël plucked the glass from her hand and stood, snickering. "Heaven forbid."

Her eyes narrowed. "Watch it, Kurtzberg."

* * *

"Chloe, why aren't you dressed?"

"I'm not going." She walked away from the door without bothering to invite him in.

He came in anyway, closing the door behind him. "Of course you are. You've already done your hair and makeup. There's no way you'd let that go to waste."

"I'll go somewhere else." She put a perfectly manicured hand to her flawless coiffure with a sniff. "This effort would be wasted on them, anyway."

"Too bad, Chlo." He tugged her up from her couch, grinning. "Come on, get dressed. It's time to go mingle with the commoners." He put a hand to the small of her back and gently pushed her towards her room. She went, grudgingly.

"Ugh, gross. Why do you keep dragging me to these things, Kurtzberg?"

"Because I love to torture you." He leaned an arm on the doorframe, and smiled down into her beautiful, scowling face. "And because I know you secretly want to go."

She slammed the door on him, and he jerked back with a laugh.

Chloe emerged a few minutes later in a lemon yellow cocktail dress, tucking her cell phone into a small white clutch and grumbling about interfering tomatoes, and Nathanaël allowed his gaze to rake over her appreciatively.

"You look lovely, Chloe."

"I always look lovely, Kurtzberg ," she shot back, but a blush darkened her cheekbones and she couldn't look him in the eye. She huffed. "You do know that Alya and Nino are going to be even more gross than Ivan and Mylene were, don't you?"

He grinned at her, amused and not at all fooled by her bluster. "I have a whole bottle of champagne in the car, just for you. It's yours, if you can make it through the ceremony."

"Of course I can make it through the ceremony," she scoffed, snatching her wrap from the back of a chair. "And the reception, too. Keep your champagne, Kurtzberg."

He hid a grin behind his hand, and followed her out the door.

* * *

"It's not enough for him to make me be here. Oh no, he had to make me a part of the damn thing!" Chloe peeked out of the small room to the side of the vestibule, and glared at the people filling the church. "He hates me, doesn't he?"

Nathanaël's lips curled into a smile. "No, I'm pretty sure he doesn't hate you."

"Then why would he _do_ this to me?" She threw herself into his arms on a wail. "Adrien knows I hate these things. I can't just duck out when I'm a member of the bridal party."

He shook with suppressed laughter. "I am too, don't forget. And we'll be seated together at the reception."

"It's the only reason I agreed to this nonsense, really."

"Mm-hmm." He tipped her chin up and kissed her languidly. "The fact that he's your oldest friend had nothing to do with it."

She scowled, both because he was right, and because he'd stopped kissing her to speak. "Shut up and kiss me, Kurtzberg."

He grinned against her mouth, and kissed her again, more briefly. "So is this why you dragged me in here?" He nipped at her lip, then soothed it with another kiss. "We can't get carried away. It's going to start soon, and I'd hate to muss your hair."

"Ugh, don't remind me." She pulled away and returned to the door, frowning she saw that the bridal party was gathering in the vestibule. "Shit. I think we need to get out there. This isn't going to be as long as the last one was, right?"

"No idea," he said cheerfully. "Come on, let's go get in line."

"You're lucky I love you. You and Adrien, both."

He grinned at her back, thinking much the same thing.

* * *

"Hey, Chlo?"

She glanced up at him as they meandered along the Seine, and wondered at the strange quality of his voice. She raised her brows expectantly.

"Will you let me drag you to another wedding?"

She groaned. "Another one? Who the hell is getting married this time? Alix and Kim? I thought they eloped?"

He stopped walking and caught at her hand, turning her to face him. "I was hoping it would be ours." She gaped at him as he dropped to one knee, there in the middle of the sidewalk, and produced a small polished wood box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a beautiful, yet understated ring in a bed of black velvet. A flawless yellow cushion-cut diamond sat perched in the center of a white gold ring, flanked by two, smaller, equally flawless trapezoid white diamonds. It wasn't large or flashy, but it was from _him_ and it was _perfect_.

"This isn't the ring you deserve, but it's yours—along with my heart. I love you, Chloe. Will you marry me?"

She looked from the ring to his anxious face, and put a hand to his cheek. "Oh, you stupid tomato. Of course I will marry you."

"Oh, thank god!" He surged to his feet and captured her mouth in a hungry kiss, almost forgetting the box he still held in his shaking hand.

She pushed him back, and held her left hand out to him, wiggling her fingers excitedly. "Aren't you forgetting something, Kurtzberg? I want my ring!"


	11. LadyNoir, I want to go on a date!

I'll be your forever friend for some Ladynoir action for the prompt: "I want to go on a date! I demand it!" 3

* * *

"I mean, it's ridiculous, right?" Ladybug stalked across the roof in frustration, gesturing wildly with her hands as she spoke. "Is it really so unreasonable to want to go on a date? I am eighteen fucking years old, and I've never been on a single date."

Chat Noir smirked at her in amusement from his perch on the ledge of the next building. "Never? Not even one?"

She slowed her steps and glanced at him with a blush that showed even beyond her mask. "Well, sort of, but only if you count the time that—" She cut herself off abruptly, and her eyes widened in dismay.

His head tilted curiously. "Yeah? 'The time that', what?"

"Uh, n-nothing," she replied, waving her hands dismissively. "It was just a fake date, it wasn't important."

He shrugged, smirking again. "If you say so."

"Well, I do say so." She finished pacing to the opposite side of the roof, and swung around to stalk back towards him. "And if anything, it makes this even more ridiculous, that the closest I've ever gotten to going out with someone was a pretend date!"

"You do see the irony here, don't you, Bug?" He asked, his voice tinged with faint amusement.

"What irony? There's no irony. I want to go on a date! In fact, I demand it!"

"No irony, huh?" The amusement was gone now, and he voice had turned strangely neutral.

She stopped in front of him, confused. "What irony, Chat, what are you talking about?"

"I've been asking you out for years, Ladybug." He smirked again, but this time it carried a bitter edge. "You shut me down every time, so many times that I lost count, and yet you see nothing ironic in the fact that you've been standing here, ranting to _me_ , about how you've never been on a date?"

Her eyes were wide behind her mask, and her skin had paled to stand in stark contrast to it. "You mean, you were _serious_?" She whispered incredulously.

"W- _what_?" He hopped down from the ledge to stand in front of her. "What in the world made you think I wasn't?"

"You—You're always so over-the-top and dramatic, Chat, I thought you were just flirting! How was I to know you were being sincere?!"

He took a few steps away from her, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "Well, at least I know you weren't being cruel."

"Cruel! Chat, no, I'm sorry, I—" She bit her lip uncertainly and followed him to put a tentative hand on his arm. "Did you really want to go out with me?"

He turned back to face her, his expression inscrutable. "Yeah, I did."

She gulped. "D-do you still?"

"I don't want a pity date, Ladybug."

"Neither do I," she rejoined tartly, and then her expression softened again. "But I never thought…" She trailed off, studying his face. "Now that I am thinking about it, though, I'd like to find out. Can I take you on a date, Chat Noir?"

"No," he said simply. Her expression fell, and he tilted her face back up to his with a clawed finger beneath her chin. "But I'd like to take you out, if you'll let me. I did ask first, if you recall."


	12. LadyNoir, Sabotage

"Hey, some of us have places to be, so let's make this quick, huh?" He called, dropping in front of the akuma.

"Got a hot date, kitty?" Ladybug asked, landing behind him with her yoyo already whirring in her grasp.

"Something like that, my lady."

"I am le Saboteur, and I have come for your Miraculous!"

"Yeah, you and every other schmuck Hawkmoth has roped into doing his dirty work," Chat grumbled. He dodged a spray of—is that icing?—that shot from her bouquet. "What's your problem anyway? Shouldn't you be dancing with your groom right about now?"

"Dance? Dance?" The white-garbed akuma stopped and turned, pointing to a long drape of fabric that had torn from the waist of her over-the-top gown. "How can I dance when my cretin of a father stepped on my dress and ripped it?"

Ladybug cringed. "Ok, that does suck, but why let it ruin your day?"

"I didn't!" She shrieked, blasting them with more frosting. "I didn't even let it ruin my day when the frosting melted off of my wedding cake!"

Chat dove, panting. "Then what are we doing here?"

"Daddy sent the photographer home!" Le Saboteur wailed, stamping her booted foot. "The reception was not over, but he let the photographer go! He sabotaged my whole day! Everything went wrong and my day was ruined and now I will sabotage everything else!"

"Right now, you're not sabotaging anything but my evening. Can we get on with it?"

"Chat!" Ladybug grabbed her partner and yanked him down behind a car. "She's had a rough day, cut her some slack."

Chat gaped at her. "Don't tell me you think she's justified?"

"No, but I sympathize." She waved her hand dismissively. "But, whatever. Let's just defeat her, so we can all get back to what we were doing. It's probably in the bouquet, right?"

"Yeah, I'd say that's a safe bet."

"Okay. Lucky Charm!" A bottle of bright red fruit punch fell into Ladybug's expectant hands, and she grinned. It wasn't often that she got a straight-forward charm, but this was definitely one of those times. "Cover me, Chat! I have a dress to ruin!"

He nodded, and leapt out of hiding to draw Le Saboteur's attention. His taunts were so successful that Ladybug calmly walked toward her, uncapped the bottle, and tossed the contents onto the still-pristine gown before Le Saboteur even knew that Ladybug had rejoined the fight.

The poor girl took one look at the giant red stain on her gown and burst into tears. Ladybug took the bouquet from her limp fingers with an apologetic grimace and easily tore it apart. As expected, a violent purple butterfly fluttered from the scattered flowers. Ladybug cleansed it with a sigh of relief, and turned back to the bewildered bride standing in the middle of the street.

The girl's dress was a more understated version of her costume, and thanks to the Miraculous Cure, was as snowy white now as it had been at the beginning of the day. Even better, Tikki's magic had fixed the tear at the waist! The only other time she could remember Tikki fixing something like that was Alix's heirloom watch. Ladybug silently promised her kwami an extra special treat later as a thank you, but for now—BEEP!

"Chat! I've got to bug out, can you make sure she's ok?"

"But—my date—"

"So you are on a hot date!" Ladybug laughed, and flicked the bell at his throat. "Sorry, Chaton, but I'm on a timer and you're not. I'm sure she'll forgive you."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled as she prepared to swing away. "I'm just lucky that Marinette is so forgiving—"

Ladybug froze mid-swing, and her yoyo clattered to the ground, momentarily forgotten. "What did you say?!"

"Er, nothing?" He stepped to the girl and swept her off her feet, bridal-style, without so much as a by-your-leave. "Gotta get this bride back to her groom. Bye!"

Ladybug watched him go with wide, suddenly knowing eyes, and only the beeping of her Miraculous recalled her to herself. She managed to make it back to the uptown restaurant before losing her transformation, and returned to her table to wait for Adrien.

That sneaky cat, she thought, smiling happily. I guess I was the hot date.


	13. MariChat, You're Mine

"Put me _down_ , you overgrown house cat!"

Chat Noir paused on a rooftop to set the struggling woman on her feet before she fell from his arms. "There. Are you ok?"

"No, I'm not ok! Take me back! You had no right to— _oof_!"

Her words cut off on an abrupt exhalation as he bent and set his shoulder into her stomach, and lifted her with his arm clamped across the backs of her knees. He ignored her renewed struggles and continued on his way, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Damnit, put me down! What are you, a cave man? _Ooooh, put me down_!"

"I will. When I get us somewhere safe." He swatted her back side with just enough force to surprise her, and she stilled for a moment. "That's better. Now hold still, we're almost there."

She huffed but didn't resume her squirming. He knew better than to take it to mean that he'd heard the end of it; she was only biding her time.

Sure enough, the moment he deposited her on the small balcony outside her apartment she slapped at his bell angrily. "What the hell is wrong with you? I was getting somewhere with them!"

He leaned lazily against the balcony railing, his arms crossed over his chest. "Sure you were. You were getting close to going home with one of them."

" _Ooh_ , of all the arrogant, overbearing— _ugh_! What does it matter to you if I was? You and Ladybug haven't been able to learn anything about what they've been doing by fighting them head-on _or_ by skulking around, but my plan had potential! A little bit more time, and a little more alcohol in his system, and I'd have had him talking—"

"Marinette, he was eyeing you like a piece of meat. He had no intention of 'talking' with you."

"Well of course, that was the idea. Distract him with a bit of cleavage and—"

"A bit?" He scoffed, straightening away from the railing. You're showing more than 'a bit' there, Princess. Are you sure you weren't offering a gilded invitation?"

She gaped at him, bemused. "What is your problem? Are—are you _jealous_?"

"I'm not jealous. I'm just..." He trailed off, and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "You're mine, okay?"

" _What_?" She all but shrieked, and began pacing incredulously on the small balcony. "How do you figure that? We aren't dating, you've never so much as _kissed_ me, and _mmpf_!"

She froze the moment his lips touched hers. She didn't kiss him back, but at least she didn't pull away. He kept his hands bracketed around her face, and stroked his thumb over her cheek. "I want you to be mine, then," he whispered, his mouth only a few bare centimeters from hers.

"You _are_ jealous," she breathed, her eyes wide.

"Yes, damnit. And I was afraid for you. You're mine to protect, if nothing else. You can't deny me that."

Her eyes hardened. "I can, and I will. You don't own me Chat Noir. You aren't my keeper."

" _Merde_ , Marinette." He dropped his hands and stepped away from her, burning both with anger at her foolishness and the pain of her rejection. "You're too damned stubborn for your own good. Please, at least tell me you won't go back there and try again."

She scoffed. "How can I? You claimed me as yours in front of the lot of them, and then carried me away with you. I'd say the cat's out of the bag, now."

"Well at least there's that, then." He dropped his elbows to the railing and hunched over to rest his chin on his crossed arms, staring at the city beyond her balcony, but not really seeing it.

He heard her sigh, and saw her move into his peripheral vision. He turned his head to look at her, and saw that she'd hitched her hip against the railing next to his elbow, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes on his face.

"You're an ass," she said finally.

He grunted and returned his gaze to the street.

"But you're my ass, aren't you?"  
His eyes shot back to hers, and he saw both hunger and possession in her eyes. He straightened, watching as she raised one hand to trace her fingers over her lips.

"And I think," she continued wonderingly. "I think that I might be yours after all."

" _Dieu merci_ ," he said emphatically, closing the short distance between them. He reclaimed her lips for another kiss, and she met him eagerly, opening her mouth beneath his on a moan. He shuddered beneath the passion in her kiss, lashing his arms around her back and growling when she lifted herself against him to wrap her legs around his waist.

She groped behind herself blindly with one hand, until her fingers met cool glass. She pushed the door open and he carried her through, sliding it closed once more with his booted foot.


	14. LadyNoir, Don't Let Go

"Don't let go, I can't see!"

"Easy, Bug. I'm right here." Chat squeezed her hand reassuringly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was almost no light at all; even with his enhanced vision, he could see just enough to navigate the large office, if he was careful. Ladybug, whose vision was not enhanced, would be completely blind. He tugged on her hand, but she didn't move. "Come on, we need to get out of here."

"Chat, I can't see anything at all." Her voice quavered with panic. "I can't see!"

"Hey, it's all right." He turned back to her and gripped her shoulder with his free hand, wincing when she jumped at the unexpected contact. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

She relaxed a bit and stepped closer to him, and he pulled her into a hug.

"Why aren't you freaking out?" She asked, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

"I can see, a little bit. Well enough to get us out of here, at least." He rubbed her back comfortingly, and tried not to notice that the woman he loved had pressed her very nubile form fully against his body. "I never took you for one to be afraid of the dark," he teased gently, hoping to goad her out of her fear—and to distract himself.

"I'm not!" She replied hotly, stepping back so that she could scowl at him, and his arms fell away from her. He thought he'd succeeded, but at the loss of contact, her expression became panicked. "Chat?"

"I haven't gone anywhere, my lady." She'd reached out blindly; he took her trembling hands in his own, and she pressed in close to him once more. He gave a mental shrug and decided to just go with it, inappropriate thoughts and all. He rested his chin on her head and resumed rubbing her back.

"Perhaps I am a little afraid," she admitted, oblivious to his distraction. "But this is different. I've never experienced a dark like this before. I can't see anything _at all_ , and it's—it's unnerving."

He tipped her chin up, despite knowing that she couldn't see him. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then trust me to lead us out of here safely, so we can take care of that akuma."

"Okay." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips, looking for all the world as if she were waiting for a kiss.

So he gave her one.

She jolted back with a shriek. "What was that?"

She jolted forward with another shriek, wrapping herself around his arm. "Don't let me go!"

"Sorry, sorry! You looked like you were waiting for a kiss. And you're the one who keeps letting me go."

"Well, I suppose that was better than our last kiss."

He blinked at her in confusion, certain that he'd misheard her. "Wait, _what_?"

"Oh, did you hear that? We'd better get out there and tackle that akuma!" She spun away and promptly ran into something with a clang. " _Ow_. "

He shook himself. If she was running, then it meant he _hadn't_ misheard her. He took her hand and tugged her toward the open path through the maze of desks. "One seeing-eye Chat, at your service, My Lady. But don't think for a moment that we won't revisit this conversation later."


	15. Ninoir, Oh what the hell

Nino looked up at the scrape of his window in its frame, and watched as Chat Noir let himself into his room. He gulped, steeling himself for a tough conversation, and swiveled his chair to face him fully. "Hey, man."

"Hey yourself." Chat walked over to where Nino still sat in his desk chair and braced his hands on the arms rests, leaning over him with a rakish smile. "Working on something good tonight?"

"Ah, no. Not really. I've been working on this track for two days, but I can't get it to sound right."

"That sucks. But, at least it means you won't mind me distracting you for a while, right?" Chat leaned in to kiss him, but Nino shied away and his smile melted into a frown. "What's wrong?"

Nino shifted awkwardly in his seat, hating himself for the hurt he saw in Chat's eyes. "Can we, uh, talk?"

Chat paled, and sank slowly to Nino's bed. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I did wrong, but I—"

"No!" Nino half-rose from his chair, thinking to offer comfort, but he didn't want to send mixed signals. He subsided in his chair with a sigh. "No, Chat, you haven't done anything wrong."

"Then what is it? No one ever says anything good after 'can we talk'."

"Well, I guess it's not…exactly." Chat's cat ears flattened on his head and Nino gulped. "Shit, this is harder than I thought it would be."

"Just say what you need to say, Nino," he said softly, staring at the floor. "It's ok."

"Shit. It's—it's like this. I like hanging out with you. Like, a lot. And—and the other stuff, too." He blushed hotly, thinking of some of that 'other stuff', but he ignored it and forged ahead. "But I've also been getting closer to this friend of mine, and—and I think that he could be more than a friend."

Chat stiffened, and his grip on the edge of the mattress went white-knuckled. "I—I see."

" _Dieu_ , this is so shitty." Nino scrubbed his hands over his face, under his glasses, and readjusted them on his nose. "I'm so sorry man, I never meant to lead you on. I just—I'm pretty sure that I'm in love with Adrien, and I have to—"

Chat's head snapped up, his eyes wide and his ears pricked forward. " _What did you say_?" He whispered.

"I—I think I'm in love with my friend, and I need to see where that could go."

"No, I mean—which friend?"

Nino's brow furrowed in confusion at Chat's strange intensity, but he answered anyway. "Uh, Adrien. But I don't see why—dude, are you laughing?"

"Maybe?" He said, definitely laughing now.

"Dude, what the hell? Did I just break your brain?"

"No, no I'm fine. But, uh…wow. So this just got complicated."

"Yeah. Are you sure you're ok? Because just a minute ago, you seemed really upset, and now….you're not."

"I'm fine, Nino, really. It's just—oh what the hell," he said, laughing. Chat Noir stood and sauntered over to brace his arms on the chair once more, his rakish smile back in place. "Plagg, claws in."

Green light washed over Chat Noir, taking the black suit and its mask. Adrien's grin widened at the flummoxed expression on Nino's face, and he leaned in until their lips were only a breath apart.

"Can I kiss you _now_?" Nino nodded mutely, and Adrien's softened to something far more tender. "Good, because I think I might love you, too."


	16. MariChat, Don't Let Go

"Don't let go, Chat! I'm almost done."

"I told you I wouldn't," he replied, patiently holding the pattern in place as she scooted awkwardly under him to cut the fabric around it. "What do you do when I'm not here to hold down your— _oof_ —patterns?"

"Oops, sorry! I didn't mean to elbow you. Um, I have pattern weights." She finished cutting the fabric and slid the cover down over the blade of her rotary cutter, then gestured to the mess of sewing supplies in the corner. "But you saved me the trouble of digging them out."

He blew a piece of her hair out of his mouth. "Can I move now?"

"Oh! Yeah, I'm done cutting it out."

He straightened gratefully, and wandered over to her sewing corner. There were three small, pink, cylindrical bean bags sitting right on top; he curiously picked one up and tossed it into the air. "Is this a pattern weight?"

"Huh?" She glanced up from where she was shifting things around on her desk, and focused on the item in his hand. "Oh! Yeah, that's one of them. I have four or five of them around somewhere."

"There are three, right on top here." He picked up the other two weights and began juggling them. "Did you not look? Or did you just want the excuse to get to close to me?"

She looked at him sharply, blushing. "I uh, didn't look," she mumbled.

"And Princess, I couldn't help noticing that this fabric is black and slinky, but that your thread is an interesting shade of green." He sidled closer to her, still juggling her pink pattern weights.

"You—you did?" Her blush deepened, and she shoved the incriminating green thread into a drawer. "I mean, I left that out from another project."

"And your pattern piece was such an _intriguing_ shape." He nudged her shoulder with his arm without dropping any of the weights.

"Is it?" She squeaked. "I mean, no, it isn't. Just a normal pattern, for a normal piece of everyday clothing. Nope, nothing intriguing about it."

"Princess?"

"Ye-es?"

He leaned over, still juggling the weights, and touched his forehead to hers. "Are you making Chat Noir themed panties?"

"No!" Her face paled and then darkened to crimson so quickly that he worried she might faint. "No no no no no! I'm making a Chat Noir _bikini_."

All three of the weights fell to the floor with muted thuds.


	17. Adrienette, Popcorn

Adrien leaned against the back of his white couch, and wished for the millionth time that it was less 'contemporary European' and more 'overstuffed luxury'. Still, he did have his own couch and home theater system _in his bedroom_ , so he figured that he had no business complaining.

Even if his friend (girlfriend?!) _did_ look incredibly stiff and uncomfortable sitting on his admittedly stiff and uncomfortable couch.

He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for something to say as the trailers played. "So, uh, did you want some popcorn, maybe?"

Marinette jumped a little bit, and blinked. A lot. "Yeah, pop-, popcorn, good!"

"Oh-kay. I'll just text Nathalie, and let her know." He did just that, and smiled conspiratorially as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. "She promised to smuggle the contraband up here."

She looked confused, and as he'd hoped, it was enough to distract her from whatever had her so stiff. "Contraband?"

"Popcorn is not on my list of approved snacks," he said, shrugging. "But Nathalie is an excellent accomplice, when she wants to be."

"Oh. Well, that's cool, right?"

"For sure!"

She smiled, but didn't say anything else.

He cleared his throat. "You said you haven't seen this before, right?"

"What? Yes. I mean, no."

His head tilted in confusion. "Which is it?"

"Oh, ah, both, actually." She giggled nerviously. "Yes, you're right, and no, I-I haven't seen it before."

"Oohh, okay. Well, you're going to love it. It's about a cat—from outer space!"

"I'd gathered that, actually, from the title." She eyed him thoughtfully. "You're kind of a dork, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, I guess—"

"OHMYGODICAN'TBELIEVEISAID THAT!" She covered her face with her hands, and spoke between her fingers. "I am so sorry, that was really rude! Excuse me, I need to crawl beneath this sofa."

He laughed, and pulled her hands from her face. "It's fine! Honestly, it's nice for someone to see me as something other than perfect." There was a knock at the door, and Adrien leapt up to get their popcorn. "Perfect timing," he said when he came back, pointing at the screen. "It's starting!"

"So it is," she replied with another giggle.

He sat down in the middle of the couch, closer to Marinette than he'd been before, and kept the popcorn in his lap. "Want some?" He asked, knowing that she'd have to move closer still to reach it.

"Sure." She scooted over, until she was within easy reach of the large bowl.

He smiled at his victory, and made a mental note to thank Alya for the suggestion. "Help yourself, there's plenty."

She flashed him a smile, and sat back to watch the movie. Periodically, she would reach blindly for another handful of popcorn, and eat it daintily, one piece at a time.

Adrien found himself far more entertained by watching her, than he was by the movie. She moved each piece to her mouth slowly. Sometimes her lip would catch gently on the tips of her fingers; sometimes her hand would linger at her mouth, if she was particularly engaged in the movie. Adrien shifted a bit on the couch, in part to resettle the growing evidence of his interest in her mouth, and in part to surreptitiously move closer to her.

She didn't notice.

 _Wow. She must really be enjoying this movie_ …

He frowned, watching her hand dip back into the bowl from the corner of his eye, and then he grinned. When she was once more nibbling away at her popcorn, he moved his hand to the bowl, and left it there. Sure enough, when she reached for more, her hand encountered his, and her startled gaze whipped to his face.

"Are you trying to hold my hand, Marinette?"

Her face flushed an even deeper shade of red than it had been earlier, and he felt guilty for having flustered her. " _What_? No! I wasn't aiming for your hand, I was reaching for the popcorn! Not—not that I wouldn't want to hold your hand. I mean, I would. No! I mean, ugh. I'll stop talking now."

"Marinette, it's ok! I was just teasing you." His face heated, and he rubbed at the back of his neck again. "To be honest, it was me. I left my hand in the bowl, because I'm the one who wanted to hold yours."

Her eyes widened, and he watched as she first paled, and then flushed scarlet.

"Marinette, are you ok? Look, I won't touch you if you don't want me to—oof!"

He fell back onto the couch, the wind knocked from his lungs by the force of her body landing on his. Or was the feeling of her lips on his that stole his breath? Because her lips were definitely on his, and it was a feeling he hadn't expected, but decided immediately that he liked.

A lot.

But, just as he found the wherewithal to wrap his arms around her, she pulled back with a squeak.

"OhmygodIcan'tbelieveIjustdidthat," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, kissing is very different from holding hands, and I _tackled_ you and ohmygodkillmenow." She hid her face in her hands again.

 _Well, that was no good_. He didn't want her to be uncomfortable, or embarrassed. "Actually, I think kissing is better than holding hands."

Her hands dropped from her face as she regarded him in surprise. Which would have been fine, really, except that she was still kneeling between his legs, and when her hands dropped, they landed… _there_.

Pain exploded low in his belly, and he jack-knifed himself into the fetal position, rolling off of the couch and hitting his head on the coffee table on the way down.

 _So, that just happened._

"Did I…was that… _merde_ , Adrien, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm…fine," he croaked, still cradling the family jewels.

"Did I just, uh…"

"Ye-up."

She stood. "I'll just—I'll just show myself out."

"What?" He pushed himself up from the floor, still moving gingerly, and stood as well. _Man, she'd really nailed him_. "No, I don't want you to leave."

"You—you don't?"

"I mean, not unless you want to."

"Oh. But I—" She gestured helplessly toward his crotch, and flushed crimson again.

"It's ok, really. I know it was an accident." He stepped a little closer to her, and brushed her hair back out of her eyes. "And—and I really would like to kiss you again."

She blinked in surprise, and her lips parted.

"May I?"

She nodded, and he smiled as he lowered his face to hers.


	18. LadyNoir, Weird Texts

Ladybug yawned, and snuggled closer to her partner. "You have got to stop texting me weird stuff so late at night, _Chaton_."

"Hey, this time I waited until I got up in the morning," he replied, nudging her with his elbow and looking affronted.

She lifted her head from his shoulder to stare at him incredulously. "Chat, it was four o'clock in the morning!"

"Oh." He had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry. Sunrise photoshoot."

"Ugh." She dropped her head back to his shoulder with a grimace. "Tell your dad that _he_ can do the next sunrise shoot. You need the sleep and so do I."

"Ha! I don't think that would go over too well." He scoffed at the idea of having that conversation with his dad, then remembered what had started this conversation to begin with and jostled her with his shoulder. "It was funny though, right?"

She scrunched her face in confusion. "What, the photoshoot?"

"No no, the _text_."

"Oh. That."

"Hilarious, right?"

She lifted her head to look at him again, this time with a scowl. "The picture of an anthropomorphic black cat dressed as Ladybug?" She asked flatly. At his nod, she raised a brow. "Mildly amusing? Yes. Worth waking me at 4 am on my day off? No."

He winced. "Were you at least able to go back to sleep?"

"No. But since I couldn't sleep, I decided to get up and make this for you." She fumbled behind them for a moment, pulled a small plush toy from her bag, and pushed into his hands with a wide smile.

"You—you made this? For me?" It was made like an old fashioned teddy bear, hinged at the shoulders and hips to be positionable, but instead of a bear, it was a black cat dressed in a red-spotted suit. "It's incredible!"

She pinkened, and then smirked. "I'm glad you like it. But, maybe don't text me until _actual_ morning next time. I can't promise to be so benevolent, if you wake me up that early for anything other than an emergency."

He hugged the plush to his chest, smiling happily. "Deal."


	19. Adrienette, Blanket Fort

"So this is a blanket fort, huh?"

Marinette smiled at Adrien's carefully neutral expression, and nodded. "Yup, this is a blanket fort. And one of my better ones, if you don't mind me saying so."

He continued to examine their construction, his head now tilted in consideration. "What makes it so good?"

"Well, your bed makes up one side of it, and the back of your couch makes up the other. It's an excellent structural foundation, and the blanket is well weighted on both sides. There're plenty of blankets and pillows in there to make it comfy cozy, we both have room to sit up or lay down, and we won't have to worry about it falling on our heads. It's pretty much perfect."

"So that's why you insisted on moving the couch and pulling out all of my extra bedding." Adrien looked up at her with excitement shining in his eyes. "Is it really worth it?"

Marinette grinned, and gestured to their fort. "You tell me."

He grinned back, finally letting his exuberance show, and grabbed up their bowl of popcorn. "Ladies first!"

"Why thank you, Chaton. Can you hit the lights?" He nodded, and she ducked under the edge of the blanket to settle herself among the bedding they'd piled up at the foot of his bed. The laptop was already under there, so she queued up their chosen movie as Adrien cut off the lights and crawled in to nestle beside her. She squirmed, and he lifted his arm so that she could tuck herself against him. When she was done, he dropped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Comfy?" He asked.

"Very. This has got to be the cushiest blanket fort ever. Why do you even have all this bedding?"

"I'm an _Agreste_ ," he reminded her sardonically.

"Oh, right," she replied, as if that explained everything. Because it did. "Ready for this?"

He gave her a smile that was all Chat Noir. "Of course. Are you sure _you're_ ready?"

"Of course! I'm telling you, scary movies don't really bother me. I know this one is supposed to be intense, but…" She trailed off with a shrug, and eyed him challengingly. "It's okay to be afraid, even if I'm not. You know you can hold on to me if you need to."

"Haha," he deadpanned. "Ok, how about this. The first one to make a noise, loses."

Marinette raised her brows, intrigued. "Loses? Like, a bet?"

"Exactly like a bet."

"What will I get when you lose?"

He scoffed in reply, feigning insult. "On the _incredibly slim chance_ that I lose, you have to…uh, take me out. On a _date_ ," he added rather dramatically.

Marinette's eyes widened, and she giggled at his theatrics. "Oh yeah?" She asked, poking him in the chest. "Well, if by some miracle I lose, then _you_ have to take _me_ out on a date!"

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"Oh, for the love of camembert!" Plagg phased through the blanket to glare at them, and was met with two blank stares. "Would you two just agree to go out already, and start the movie?!"

They shared a look, both of them blushing hotly, and then collapsed together in a pile of giggles.

"Ugh, you guys are the worst at this."

They only laughed harder.


	20. Marichat, What did you just say?

"What did you just say?"

Marinette clamped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late to call the words back. "N-nothing," she mumbled through her fingers.

Chat Noir grinned in delight. "Princess, did you just _pun_?"

Marinette set her jaw stubbornly and crossed her arms over her chest, opting to brazen it out. "No, of course not!"

"You did! I heard you! You punned!" He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the floor to swing her about in a joyous circle.

She gripped his shoulders in surprise, laughing in spite of herself as he swung her around, and around again. "Put me down, you ridiculous cat," she gasped. "You're making me dizzy!"

"But you _punned_ ," he protested, but he slowed and let her slide to the ground, keeping his hands at her waist to steady her.

Their eyes caught and widened as she slid to the floor, both becoming aware of their intimate position at the same time: her arms around his neck, his hands at her waist, and their bodies pressed close together. They stayed in a frozen tableau for several long moments, until Marinette's phone began to buzz, breaking the silence, and the gentle words of _Soft Kitty_ filled the room.

They leapt apart, both of them blushing furiously. Marinette scooped her phone up from her desk, grateful for the distraction, and ignored his smirk at her ringtone as she greeted Alya.


	21. Adrienette, I think I lost

"Hey, uh, Marinette? I think I lost the baby."

Marinette blinked, frowning. "You…lost her?"

"Ye-ah." Adrien shifted from foot to foot anxiously as Marinette hung her coat on a hook, and set her bag on the hall table. "I mean, she was right there, all day long. She kept following me around. And then she disappeared, and I can't find her _anywhere_."

"Did you leave a window open?" Marinette asked, toeing off her shoes.

He frowned. "I didn't open any windows at all."

"Did you leave the front door open at some point?" She crossed to the sofa and sank into the plush cushions with a sigh.

"No, I haven't opened that, either."

"Then she's around here somewhere." Marinette shrugged, unconcerned, and tipped her head back into the cushion behind her. "She'll come out when she's ready."

His frown deepened. "But Mari, she's just a baby!"

She laughed, and tugged him down to sit beside her. "Yes, love, I know. But she's a baby _cat_ , and as such, is perfectly capable of managing on her own for a while. She probably just found a cozy place to sleep for a while."

"But—"

"Besides," Marinette continued, silencing him with a brief kiss on his lips. "She has Plagg looking out for her. He might be a grump, but he's not going to let anything happen to her."

"I suppose you're right." Adrien slumped into the couch, pouting. "It's just that I've never really had a pet before. I don't want to mess up."

"I know, _minou_." She kissed him again, this time letting her lips linger on his, drifting back and forth languorously.

"Mmm. Hello, my lady," he murmured against her mouth, hooking a hand behind her far knee and pulling her over to straddle his lap.

She smiled against his lips. "Hello, mon minou," she murmured back.

She'd just swept her tongue into his mouth when she felt the prick of tiny claws in her leg, catching in the fabric of her leggings. She broke the kiss on a giggle, scooped up the little ball of fluff before she could do any real damage, and presented her to Adrien. "See? She's just fine."

"Luna!" Adrien's eyes lit, and he cuddled the little cat to his chest. "You naughty girl, where have you been? You worried your papa sick!"

Marinette giggled again. "Oh Adrien, you're ridiculous. If you worry like that over our kitten, how are you going to survive worrying over our baby?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said, nuzzling the cat. "I'm sure I'll figure—" He stopped abruptly, and snapped his head up to meet her eyes. "Wait, what?"

She smiled joyously, and nodded to encourage his obvious train of thought.

"So, you're—you mean, we're—a-a _baby_?"

"I went to the doctor this afternoon to confirm it. You're going to be a _real_ Papa."


	22. LadyNoir, Truth

"Do you know what it's like, my lady, to be in love with someone?" Chat Noir stepped in close to his partner, and cupped her jaw in his hands.

Ladybug met his intense green eyes with luminous blue, and her lip trembled. "Chat…" she began, but trailed off into silence.

He stroked her jaw with his thumb, and she shivered. "Do you know what it's like, to see that person every day, to feel yourself falling a little deeper every day, and to be summarily rejected, _every day_?"

Her eyes slid closed, and a tear slipped down her cheek. He brushed it away.

"No," she finally answered, her voice small. Then her eyes opened, and fixed on his once more. "No, to your second question. Yes to the first."

He felt her words as a blow, and he held himself very still while he absorbed them. His eyes tightened, but he gave no other outward indication. "Oh?"

"Do you know what it's like, to be in love with someone, to see them every day, to fall a little harder every day, only to learn that he is far more to you than you ever imagined?"

He shook his head in confusion, and she tilted her head into his hand, rubbing her cheek gently over the supple material covering his palm.

"Do you know what it's like," she whispered, "to discover that the one you love is the one you've been pushing away?"

His eyes widened, and his heart began to thump with nascent hope. "My lady?"

"The truth is that I've loved you all along." His breath caught at her quiet admission, and she took a tentative step closer, closing the space between them. "It just took me a while to see, and to understand what was right in front of me. Now that I do see…" Her eyes roamed over his face, and she touched her fingers to his mouth, tracing the bow shape of his lower lip wonderingly. "Now that I see, I can't imagine how I missed it."

He caught her wrist in a gentle grip, and her fingers curled around his as he recaptured her gaze. "What more are you trying to say?"

"I know who you are, Adrien," she whispered. "All of you. And…I want you to know all of me."


	23. Adrienette, Goodnight Kisses

"That was barely even a kiss!"

Adrien shifted uncomfortably, and glanced through the window again. "I know, but…Marinette, your parents are _right there_."

Her eyes widened and she spun to look through the window of the bakery. Sure enough, there were her parents, watching them shamelessly with big dopey smiles on their faces. Her mom even had the audacity to _wave_ at them. Marinette felt her face heat, and she turned back to Adrien with a pained smile. "I'm sorry, I know they're awful."

Adrien chuckled, and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "They're not awful, Mari. It's obvious that they love you."

"Well, sometimes, I wish they'd be a little less obvious about it," she huffed, pouting. "Here, come around the corner with me!" She grabbed his hand and tugged him after her, to the side door.

"Mari, wait!" He said, laughing. "What are you—"

She pulled him inside and turned to face him again, with a blush on her cheeks and a coy smile curling her lips. "Do it again, please? I've been looking forward to our goodnight kiss, all night long."

"You're incorrigible," Adrien replied, flushing at her words. He pulled her closer with a hand at her hip and a knowing smirk on his face, as he lowered his mouth to hers. "Maybe next time we should skip the date and just go make out somewhere," he whispered against her mouth.

She kissed him back, lingering but not daring to deepen the kiss. She did have class in the morning, even if he did not. "Mmm, that sounds wonderful, actually. Movie night?"

"Yeah." He kissed her again, and nipped gently at her lower lip. "See you tomorrow after your class?"

"Of course." She paused to kiss him again, lingering a bit longer this time. "Good night, Chaton."

He chuckled. "Are you kicking me out?"

"Maybe a little. I do have to finish that project proposal."

"Oh, well in that case…" He took her hand and bowed over it, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Good night, my Lady."

She giggled, and tugged her hand away. "Get out of here, you silly cat."

"All right, all right. I'm going." He pressed one last, chaste kiss to her lips. "Until tomorrow, my Lady."

She smiled dreamily. "Until tomorrow, _Chaton_."


	24. Adrienette, Is that my shirt?

"Is that my shirt?"

Adrien spun around guiltily, and tugged at the bottom hem of his stolen shirt. "Uh—maybe?"

"It's ok, Adrien," she giggled, balancing her tray of snacks as she came up the stairs into her room. "I don't mind."

He looked down at the bright red Ladybug symbol blazoned over the front of the black shirt, and then back up at her face. "Are you sure? I should have asked."

"I'm sure," she said firmly, setting the tray on her desk. "It's pretty much an unwritten rule that you have to raid your friend's closet at sleepovers, anyway."

He arched a brow, clearly skeptical. "Not at any sleepover I've ever been to."

"Clearly, you've never been to a sleepover with a girl before," she quipped, bending to her computer to bring up their chosen movie.

He scoffed. "I'm not even supposed to be at a sleep over with a girl _now_."

"That's why this is a _secret_ sleepover." She shot him a wink over her shoulder, then paused to finish at her computer before turning back to him completely. "Anyway, the shirt was just a freebie from the radio station booth at that Heroes festival a few weeks ago, and it's really too big for me." She grabbed her soda and the popcorn, and sat at the end of her chaise, eyeing him appraisingly. "Honestly, you should just keep it, since it fits you so well."

His eyes widened, and he ran his hands over the soft cotton again. "Really?"

"Absolutely," she insisted. "Now, grab your drink, and come snuggle with me?"

He grinned boyishly, moved his drink closer to the end of her desk, and sat on the chaise behind her so that she could scoot back and lean against him. "Do all sleep overs also include movies and snuggles with pretty girls?"

Marinette ducked her head, blushing. "You keep talking like that, Adrien Agreste, and you're going to make me think you want me to be more than your cuddle buddy."

A faint blush spread over his cheeks, and a charmingly lopsided smile split his face. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I've been trying to make you think that since we started Lycee."


	25. Adrienette, Make me!

"Oh, good! You're here! Now I can trounce you in UMS4 again."

Adrien laughed, carefully lowering her trap door. "Come on, Mari, don't pull your punches. Tell me how it really is," he deadpanned, and she grinned unrepentantly.

"I can't help it if I'm better than you, when it comes to Mecha Strike."

"Uh huh." He rolled his eyes. "What if we play something else, where we'd have a more equal playing field?"

Marinette tilted her head thoughtfully, tapping her finger on the shoulder pad of her controller. "What about the new _Uncharted_ game? The last one was pretty good."

His eyes lit, and he nodded excitedly. "Do you have it?"

She stood to fetch it out of her school bag, and brandished it with a smirk. "Max had it pre-ordered, and has already beaten it. He brought it to me at school this morning."

"Of course Max has already beaten it." Adrien plopped down in her desk chair, controller in hand. "It's been a while since we've played a co-op like this."

"Not since the Mecha Strike update dropped," she said as she popped the disk into the console. "And that was a few months ago, right?"

She crossed back to the chaise to start the game, and he nodded. "We really should branch out more. As much as I love that game, it's nice to play something where I'm not constantly having my ass handed to me."

"Huh." Marinette cocked her head, feigning confusion. "That's never happened to me, so I don't actually know what that's like."

" _Tsss_ ," he hissed, wincing. "Ouch. You do know that I'm actually really good at video games, right?"

"I do," she replied earnestly. Then she went on with a smirk, "you just aren't good enough to beat _me_."

He stared back at her flatly, though amusement sparked in his eyes. "You know, sometimes I really miss the days when you couldn't string together a complete thought in my presence, much less express them as words."

"Arrgghh! _Adrien_!" She grabbed the pillow from her chaise and lobbed it at his head, laughing. "You're fighting dirty!"

He snatched the pillow out of the air with a grin. "Just stop talking smack and start the game."

She crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest, smirking once more. "Make me," she taunted.

His brows rose, and after a moment's thought, he rolled her desk chair closer to the chaise.

"What are you doing?" She asked, frowning.

He leaned in close enough to count the freckles dusted over her nose. "I'm making you," he said simply. Then he leaned in the rest of the way to capture her lips with his own.


	26. Secret Santa

**Summary: Marinette decides to get creative in delivering her Secret Santa gift, and gets herself caught somewhere that she isn't supposed to be.**

 **This one-shot is my Secret Santa gift for psyriaart.**

* * *

Ladybug carefully opened the large plate glass window and slipped into the empty room as quietly as possible. At least, she hoped it was empty. She'd been observing it for the past twenty minutes, dithering, on the excuse that she wanted to make sure it was empty. There'd been no movement within, and her excuse had worn thin, even in her own mind. If she didn't do what she'd come to do, then she was going to have to just give up and go home with her tail tucked between her legs.

But—no. She was _Ladybug_ , damnit, and cowardice just didn't sit well on her shoulders. So here she was, sneaking into Adrien's room with his Christmas gift tucked safely in the bag slung over her shoulder.

Of course, she could have just given it to him directly, and all of this skullduggery to leave it in his room anonymously would have been unnecessary. She ignored that very Tikki-sounding voice, reassured herself that this was not a cowardly way to go about it, and dropped silently to the floor in his room.

Now she just had to figure out where to leave it.

On his bed? No, too creepy.

His desk? Too impersonal.

The piano? No, too…random.

Ladybug bit her lip indecisively as she looked around the room, trying to decide on the perfect place to leave the gift. A few minutes later, she gave up. She needed help.

"Spots off," she whispered, catching Tikki gently in her palms as the little kwami left the earrings.

Tikki looked at their surroundings in confusion before meeting her eyes. "Marinette, what are you doing?"

"I don't know where to leave it, Tikki! I want it to be perfect, not weird or random, you know? And it can't be too obvious, because what if someone else comes in here before Adrien gets back? What if it's the cleaning lady, and she throws it away? What if it's Nathalie, or his fa-father and they confiscate it? What if Adrien does find it, but thinks it's creepy that someone broke into his room and—"

Tikki's eyes widened at the panicked tirade and flew up to nuzzle the girl's flushed cheek comfortingly. "Calm down, Marinette! I really don't think it matters that much where you leave it, so long as he sees it."

Marinette blinked. "Really?"

"Really!" Tikki smiled encouragingly, and gave the room a quick once-over. "What about on the coffee table, by the TV? It's not near the door, so anyone coming in won't see it immediately, but in plain enough sight that Adrien is sure to see it soon."

"Oh Tikki, that's perfect!" She knocked the heel against the side of her head with a groan. "It's so obvious, why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you were over-thinking again," Tikki giggled. "Now, hurry up and leave it so we can—" She broke off with a grimace and dove into Marinette's over-sized bag, hiding beneath the gift. "Too late," she muttered, and Marinette's gaze snapped up to see a familiar black-clad figure flying unerringly toward the still-open window.

"Oh, no!" Marinette looked frantically for a place to hide, but to no avail. "No no nonononono!"

"Just brazen it out, Marinette," Tikki hissed as Chat Noir hit the floor in a dive and rolled gracefully to a crouch. "He saw you."

"Princess?" He asked, rising from his crouch. "This isn't your tower. What are you doing here?"

"Um! No-nothing! I just, ah, was doing a favor! For Adrien!"

"For Adrien?" he repeated, his voice curiously dry.

"Ye-yeah! He um, he asked me to…get a book for him!" She crossed to his desk and picked up the graphic novel sitting next to his keyboard. "See? He forgot it, and asked me to grab it for him." She clutched it frantically to her chest, and began edging toward the door. "So, it was really good to see you, but I have to get going. Adrien needs his book after all!"

She'd gone three steps towards the door when Chat Noir landed in front of her, and leaned negligently on his staff. She stopped short and stared at him with wide eyes as he smiled lazily. "Chat?"

"I happen to know that Adrien did not send you here for a book." He quirked a brow and leaned forward to pluck the book from her grasp, tossed it back to the desk, and leaned on his staff once more. "So what are you really doing here?"

She gulped. "I was—I, uh…"

His eyes crinkled in a smile. "Pilfering his phone again?"

"Wha-?" she gasped. "How did you—I mean, no, of course not! I've never stolen anything!"

"You're a terrible liar, Princess."

"Oh, alright." She deflated, and tugged the bag around to her front to clutch at it tightly. "For the record, I only borrowed his phone to erase an embarrassing voicemail that I didn't even mean to leave. And today…" She opened the bag and pulled out the brightly colored package, wincing when she saw the sorry state of the bow. "I just wanted to leave him a surprise for Christmas."

"Oh!" He straightened, and a faint blush stained his cheeks. "Really? A Christmas gift for m—him?"

"Yeah. Giving him gifts usually end up in disaster, so I thought I'd try something else this time."

"Ah." He grimaced, and nodded in understanding. "I see."

" _Exactly_." She sighed, shaking her head. "If even _you've_ heard what a catastrophe I am, then this is definitely the right call. This way, I can be like a secret Santa, no humiliation involved."

She looked nervously over her shoulder at the door to his room, conscious of the long minutes she'd already spent in there. "Speaking of, I think I'll just leave it on the table there and skedaddle. I don't want to get caught here by anyone else and make _this_ into a catastrophe as well." Her eyes lit, and narrowed on him. "Wait a minute, what are _you_ doing here?"

His eyes widened. "Ah, I saw someone sneaking in here, and wanted to make sure he wasn't being robbed."

"Oh. That makes sense, I guess." Her expression eased and she wandered over to the low coffee table to set the package carefully in the middle. "I hope he likes it," she murmured, when she realized that he'd followed her over.

"I'm sure he will," he murmured in reply. "I'm _certain_ he will."

* * *

Chat Noir held Marinette tightly as he carried her the short distance from his house to her rooftop balcony, his mind preoccupied with the present currently sitting on the table in his room and with the girl who left it there.

How had she gotten into his room? He would have sworn he'd seen Ladybug when he first glimpsed someone in his room, and it would have been easy enough for his partner. For Marinette? Not so much. And why hadn't she simply given it to him at school, or at the holiday party his father had grudgingly allowed Adrien to host? It was scheduled for the following night, so it's not like she'd have to wait long.

Then he recalled again what had happened when she tried to give him his gift last year, and cringed. Maybe this _was_ the better option.

He landed lightly on her balcony and allowed her to slide to the ground, pointedly ignoring the way his hormone-riddled body reacted to the feel of her against him. "Home safe and sound, as promised, Princess."

"Thank you, Chat." She rose on her toes and pressed a brief kiss to his cheek. "If you'll wait for just a moment, I have a little something for you as well."

He froze in place at the touch of her lips on his cheek, and managed only a stiff nod at her words.

Blushing, Marinette opened the trap door and slid into her room. She was gone only for a moment before she returned with another festive package and pressed it into his hands.

It was smaller than the box she'd left in his room, but just as beautifully decorated. "Chat Noir" had been written in careful script across one of the large green polka dots that speckled the paper, and she'd turned the "O" into a kitty cat smiley face.

He shot her a shy smile, thinking of the other gift she'd already given him—not that she knew that. "You didn't have to get me anything, Princess. And it isn't Christmas yet."

"Of course I did. I give gifts to all my friends." She bounced a bit on the balls of her feet, smiling. "Open it!"

"Alright." Still smiling, he split the tape with a sharp claw and opened one end of the package to slide the box out of its wrapping. To his delight, he found a bakery box stuffed full of his favorite treats from her parents' boulangerie. He immediately opened the box, lifted out a pale pink macaron, and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth with a happy sigh.

Marinette laughed. "Maybe don't eat them all at once this time, yeah?"

His mouth was still full of macaron, so he just shrugged. He probably _would_ eat them all at once, even knowing the stomach ache he'd have when he was done.

They were that good.

He thought again of the package waiting for him in his room. Would there be more of the same? He couldn't decide if he wanted there to be, or not. They were amazing, but even he couldn't eat that many sweets!

As it turned out, he needn't have worried. The surprisingly heavy box had contained a beautiful, deep green chenille throw that was heavy without being thick. It had been knitted with a very fine chenille yarn, making it both very soft and very warm. There was no packaging, no tag, and no label. Knowing Marinette, it was probably hand-made, and knowing what he did about textiles, he was overwhelmed by the number of hours she'd spent on it—let alone the cost of the expensive chenille yarn. He unfolded it and draped it over his body, luxuriating in the comforting weight of the deceptively thin blanket and wondering how he could possibly thank her for the gift.

Plagg, who'd made a bee-line for the cheese stash in his personal fridge the moment he'd been released from the ring, must have sated himself. He floated over and lifted a corner of the blanket curiously. "This is nice," he said, running a paw over the material. "But what is this?"

"What is what?" Adrien asked, dropping his end of the blanket to look at the corner Plagg held. An interesting design had been stitched into that corner of the blanket and he frowned, recognizing the design but not immediately placing where he'd seen it before.

When it clicked, he jumped up from the couch and went pawing through his closet, dead-set on finding one particular scarf. After a moment's panic, he remembered that he'd worn it to school on Friday and found it jammed in his school bag. With a sigh of relief, he took it and found the design that had been embroidered at one end of the scarf.

Though smaller, it was an exact match to the one on his new blanket. What's more, is that from this angle, he finally realized that the design actually spelled out Marinette's name. What had she said in the bowler hat competition? _I always sign my designs._

It was Marinette's signature. Marinette had made his scarf.

* * *

The next evening, Marinette stood in front of the mirror in her room, critically eyeing the black and green tea-length cocktail dress she wore. It was conservatively cut, yet it hugged her slender body in a way that flattered her petite figure before flaring out at the hips to swirl gently around her thighs. It was made of a buttery soft green underdress, with a black lace overlay that made the green look darker than it actually was. She'd painstaking sewn on tiny Swarovski crystal beads here and there in the lace, making it sparkle when they caught the light. All in all, it was the perfect dress for a semi-formal holiday party, even if it was at the home of a world renowned fashion icon. Besides, it wasn't the elder Agreste she sought to impress—it was his son.

"You look lovely, Marinette!"

Marinette pirouetted before the mirror and grinned at Tikki's reflection. "Do you think Adrien will like it?"

"Of course! Everyone will!"

"Thanks, Tikki." Marinette giggled, and held out her coordinating purse, already stocked with cookies. "Are you ready?"

"I am!" She dove into the purse, but peeked back out. "I can't wait to hear your parents' reaction. You did such a great job on the dress, and you look so pretty!"

Tikki was not disappointed. They oohed and ahhed over her creation, bemoaned the rate at which their little girl was growing up, and took enough photos to fill an album.

"Wait, where is Alya?" Tom asked suddenly, frowning. "Don't you two usually go to these sorts of things together? I don't want you out there on your own."

"No, Papa, Adrien is sending his driver to pick me up! Isn't that sweet? He offered chauffer services to anyone who wanted a ride, just to make sure all of his friends could attend."

Her father's expression cleared. "Have I mentioned before how much I like this Adrien fellow? Such a gentleman." He grinned mischievously and turned to his wife. "I can't wait to make their wedding cake!"

Marinette flushed hotly, but giggled in spite of herself. "Papa!"

Sabine laughed. "Don't worry, I'll remind him never to say that sort of thing in front your friends."

Marinette shuddered theatrically. "Heaven forbid!"

There was a quiet knock at the door, and she twirled to stare at it, excitement spiking.

"I think your ride is here," her father said dryly when she didn't move to open it.

"Oh! Right." She opened the door expecting to see Adrien's chauffeur, or perhaps someone else from the Agreste staff.

She did not expect to see Adrien himself, standing at her door with a sheepish smile.

Marinette shrieked, and slammed the door.

Tom snickered.

"Marinette!" Sabine scolded, and reached past her daughter to open the door once more. "Hello, Adrien. Come on in."

Adrien looked at Marinette uncertainly. "Hi."

"Hi." Marinette ducked her head, blushing hotly. "I-I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you, and I panicked." She glanced up, and smiled. "Would you like to come in?"

"Sure." He stepped awkwardly inside, and his eyes swept over her. He blinked. "You look… _wow_. You look amazing, Marinette."

The heat returned full-force to Marinette's cheeks at the compliment. "Thank you! So do you. I mean, no! Not beautiful! Handsome! I mean, of course you are, you're a model, and—"

"You do look very nice, Adrien." Her mother cut in, her hands landing gently on her shoulders. "Since you're here, would you mind taking a few pictures with Marinette?"

" _Maman!_ "

Adrien chuckled, and inclined his head. "I don't mind at all, so long as you share them with me."

"Of course!" Delighted, Sabine shooed them over to stand in front of the book shelf, and began snapping photos.

Before she could get carried away, though, Marinette slipped out from under Adrien's arm ( _omg he'd had his arm around her!_ ) and bussed her mother's cheek. "I will be back later, Maman!"

Sabine smiled knowingly, but lifted Marinette's coat from the back of the couch and handed it to her. "Have a good time, dear."

"Don't forget your curfew!" Tom added as he draped his arm over his wife's shoulder, and dropped a kiss on his daughter's head as she tugged the coat on.

"I'll make sure that she gets home safe and sound, sir."

"Thank you, Adrien. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!"

Marinette led the way through the door and down the stairs to street level, acutely aware of the boy—the young man, really—who followed close behind her. Was he personally picking up all of his classmates? Or just her? Alya hadn't said anything about a personal pick up, and she'd certainly had no idea about it.

At the bottom of the stairs, he slipped around her and pulled the door open with a flourishing bow.

She giggled at the overdone gallantry, and he met her gaze with a smile. "Your chariot awaits, my lady," he said, gesturing to the car parked at the curb.

"A limo?" she gasped, staring at him in shock. Then her brain finished processing his words, and she started, staring after him as he walked to the car and opened her door. _Just a coincidence_ , she thought, catching up with him.

He grinned. "It's only a small limo."

With a breathless laugh, she slid into the back seat, and continued to move until he had room to slide in beside her.

Adrien's enormous driver glanced in the back seat to make sure they were both buckled, and then pulled away from the curb with a grunt.

Marinette shifted in her seat, nervous but also very curious. She licked her lips and forced herself to ask the question that had been burning in her mind. "So…did, um, did everyone get a personal pick up from the host?"

Adrien laughed a tad uncomfortably, and shook his head. "Ah, no. I…I wanted an opportunity to talk to you, alone, and I knew that we probably wouldn't get an opportunity to do that at the party, so…"

Marinette's heart thumped hard in her chest, and she stared at him, wide-eyed. "You wanted to talk to _me_? Alone?"

"Yeah," he said, softly. Turning his gaze to the driver, he said, "Malcolm?"

The driver, whose name was apparently Malcolm, grunted again. A tinted glass plate rose up between the compartments, affording them a degree of privacy. Marinette started open-mouthed, then turned to look at Adrien with ever-mounting curiosity.

He studied her face as if he was looking for something, and she squirmed under his regard. "Adrien?"

"Right, sorry." He blinked, and seemed to shake himself. "I wanted to thank my secret Santa, for my gift."

"Your—oh!" Her eyes widened yet further, and she felt herself flush scarlet. "But I'm not—"

"I was quite surprised to find it in my room, you know." He tilted his head quizzically, ignoring her denial. "How did you get into the house?"

She floundered, grasping desperately for an explanation that didn't include a red suit with black spots. "I-I…ah, I um, snuck in through the back door?"

That searching look returned to his eyes as he weighed her response. Then he smiled enigmatically, and reached over to take her hand in his. Her breath caught. "Is this ok?" he whispered, and at her nod, his smile widened. "You're still a terrible liar, Princess."

Her eyes blew impossibly wide and she gasped. "You're…?"

His smile turned sly, and it was 100% Chat Noir. "The one and only."

"You—but—how? Why are you—" She darted a look at the driver, and shook her head. "Why let me know?"

He winced sheepishly. "I, um, looked at yesterday's security footage for the area outside my room."

She paled and goggled at him, her mind reeling. She'd barely recovered from the shock of discovering that he was Chat Noir, and he was hitting her again with this? She gulped, and decided to play dumb in the hopes that she was wrong. "Oh? Anything interesting?"

He gave her a look that communicated quite clearly what he thought of that. "Not now, there isn't. You'd be surprised at how easy it is to edit digital security footage."

Damn. She lowered her eyes, and fingered one of the crystals on her dress. "So, now you know."

"I know that you're my best friend, and that I've now fallen for you twice." Her eyes shot back to his, and he raised her hand to his mouth, to place a kiss on the back. It was the first time he'd done it outside their masks, and her breath caught. "I know that I want to ask you to be my official date for the party. And I know that I would very much like to catch you under the mistletoe tonight." He smirked, and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "More than once, if you'll let me."

Marinette blinked, struggling to take it all in. This was—this was a lot, and so much of the conversation had happened in subtext that her head was swimming just trying to keep track of the things that _hadn't_ been said. If she'd followed all of that correctly, then Adrien was Chat Noir; he'd figured out that she was Ladybug from the security footage at the mansion but had doctored it so that no one else could do the same; and he wanted _her_ to be his date for the night.

"Marinette?"

She looked up, and realized that she must have stayed quiet for too long; Adrien's smile had melted, and he was now staring anxiously. "How are you not freaking out right now?" she blurted, and then decided that _that_ was actually what she really wanted to know the most.

He laughed. "I did all of my freaking out last night, and got it out of my system." He rubbed the back of his neck, and chuckled again. "There was a lot of freaking out."

"Oh. That…makes me feel better."

"It's a lot, isn't it?"

She nodded, and chuckled a bit herself. "I'm screaming internally."

"Okay, how about this," he said, squeezing her hand. "How about we get out of this car, go inside, and have a really good time at this party. You don't need to be my date, I promise not to accost you under the mistletoe, and we can talk about everything later. What do you say?"

"I'd say that sounds wonderful," she breathed gratefully. "But, would it be okay if I accosted _you_ under the mistletoe?"

He grinned. "As many times as you like, my lady."


	27. The Best Gift

**Summary: Ladybug has had a hard time deciding on the best gift for her partner, but she thinks that she's finally found a winner.**

 **This is my Secret Santa gift for** **realityunacknowledged.**

* * *

Ladybug was nervous.

She'd made plans with Chat Noir to meet up that night to exchange Christmas gifts, and she was really quite excited about that, but she was anxious about how he'd like his gifts. Or, more specifically, she was anxious about _one_ of his gifts.

She arrived to their meeting spot early because she'd been too wound up to wait at home. Now, here in the secluded rooftop garden of an empty house, she was stuck waiting with nothing but her own thoughts to distract her. She groaned and sank to the bench in the center of the garden, hanging her head over the back to look up at the sky. She could always just…not go through with it, right?

"Good evening, my lady."

Ladybug bolted upright. "Chat!"

"Why the groan?" Chat placed a brightly colored gift bag on the ground and sat next to her on the bench. "It's present time!"

"Oh, nothing. Just the holiday stress getting to me." She turned away from him and reached into the bag she'd left next to the bench on her side. When she turned back to him, she held out a festively wrapped box with a big green bow on it. "Merry Christmas, Chaton!"

"Ooh, for me?" Chat took it with a grin, then reached into his own bag and produced not one, not two, but _three_ wrapped boxes, stacked atop one another like a pyramid and tied together with a red satin ribbon. "These are for you."

"Oh my God, Chat, three? That's too much! I thought we agreed not to go overboard!"

"Did we?" Chat asked, twisting his mouth thoughtfully as he tapped his chin. "Because I don't remember having any such conversation."

"Chat!"

"Stop fussing and open them!"

"Fine," she gave in with a fond smile, "but this had better be 3 parts of the same thing." She tugged on the tails of the bow atop the presents, and they slid free easily. When it was loose, she used one hand to steady the stack of gifts and draped the ribbon around Chat's shoulders with the other. "Do try not to tangle yourself up in that, Chaton."

He rolled his eyes at her jibe, but was so excited that he was practically vibrating in his seat and he let it pass without a rejoinder. "Open the top one first!"

"Okay," she said, pulling the tape carefully away from the paper.

He whimpered. "You're going slow on purr-pose!"

"Maybe," she allowed, grinning.

"Here, I'll help you!" He hooked his claws in the paper and yanked, ripping it open so forcefully that a strip of the paper came off in his hand. "Oops," he said unrepentantly. "My hand slipped."

Ladybug giggled; his excitement was infectious. She opened the box to find a small, enameled ladybug charm hanging from a delicate silver chain. "Oh! It's beautiful!" She held it closer to her face, to look at it more closely, and realized with a start that the spots were not done in black enamel, as she'd thought, but with tiny faceted black crystals.

"Do you like it?" he asked anxiously.

She nodded, clutching the box to her chest. "The only thing I might have liked better, Chaton, was a kitty charm."

His eyes widened and he flushed with pleasure. "Well, there's always your birthday."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she said. "Now, open yours!"

"But you still have—"

"Nope, we're taking turns. Open it!"

Chat Noir pretended to pout for a moment, then brightened as he inspected his gift. "What did my lady get for me?" he mused aloud, shaking it.

"You're lucky it's not fragile."

"If it survived the yo-yo ride over here, it'll survive a bit of investigative shaking, Bugaboo." He shook it again, and frowned. "It did make that sound before, right?" She giggled again, as she knew he'd intended, and he began tearing the paper away to reveal the utilitarian shipping box beneath. "Interesting..." He used a claw to split the tape holding it closed, opened the flaps, and pushed aside the tissue paper to peer inside the box. "What is this?"

"Take it out and see!"

He reached in and carefully slid his fingers down into the shipping box to grasp the slightly smaller box nestled within. On the top of the box was a picture of the two of them with their faces pressed close together and smiling hugely. He shook the box again, and looked at her questioningly. "Is this…a puzzle?"

"It is," she confirmed, feeling silly now that he'd opened it. "I know I normally make your gift, but I couldn't think of anything to make that I haven't already made for you—"

He halted the flow of her words with a finger over her mouth. "It's perfect, Ladybug. Thank you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he laughed, then picked up the second gift from her lap and pushed it at her. "Now, you get to open another one!"

"Alright, alright!" She skipped over making a show of this one, and instead tore into it the same way Chat Noir had done. This box was incredibly light, and she found that it contained only an envelope. "A Christmas card?"

He smiled enigmatically. "Open it and find out."

Curious now, Ladybug opened the envelope and pulled out two tickets to… _the insanely exclusive Gabriel Winter Fashion Show_? "Oh my god, Chat, how did you—these are—" She shoved the envelope at him as if the tickets within might bite her. "I can't accept these!"

Chat sat on his hands and shook his head. "You can! This wily cat has his ways, and I want you to have them."

"Chaaaat!"

"No refunds, no exchanges! Now, I do believe you have another gift to open."

Ladybug stared at him mutinously, but he met her glare placidly. "You're ridiculous."

"Obviously. Next gift."

She hesitated, her heart pounding with renewed anxiety. Did she really want to give him his second gift? His _real_ gift? It wasn't too late, she could just pretend… But, no. She and Tikki had talked it over, and decided together. She wasn't going to back down now. She pulled the second, much smaller box from the bag and handed it to him.

"Actually, Chaton, I have another gift for you."

"Oh," he said, brightening with both surprise and pleasure. "My lady, you spoil me."

"Hello, pot. I'm the kettle."

Chat snickered, and opened the gift as eagerly as he'd opened the last. When he removed the lid from the box, however, his expression blanked. "Ladybug?" He lifted the hand-stitched red and black mask from the box and held it reverently in his hands. "What is this?"

Ladybug gulped. No going back now.

"It's actually just a symbol. Of your real gift." He looked up at her, his eyes shining with intense emotion.

"My lady?"

"I was wracking my brain, trying to figure out what I could possibly give you for Christmas that could show you how important you are to me. How much you've come to mean to me. And I realized, there was actually only one thing that could possibly come close: myself. My identity."

* * *

Chat Noir stared in open mouthed shock at his partner, trying to process what her words meant, but his brain had shut down. Her gift had taken him completely by surprise, rendering him speechless. His fingers curled around the familiar mask in his hand.

"You—" Ladybug broke off, swallowed thickly, and began again. "You can say no, if you'd rather not know. But I wanted—no, I _needed_ you to know that I am willing to share it with you, to be your friend out of the mask as well as in it."

He'd begun shaking his head before she even finished speaking, and now, he dropped the mask back into its box so that his hands would be free to take hers. "No, it's not that at all. I'm just, in shock, I think." He stroked his thumbs over her hands, still struggling to make sense of his tumultuous thoughts. "I'd given up on you ever wanting to share your identity. You've protected it so fiercely, you know?"

Ladybug nodded, smiling ruefully. "I know. And there's still a risk. But it's one I'm willing to take."

Chat Noir studied her expression, searching for fear or doubt or regret. He found a touch of anxiety, but she was resolute. His lips curled. "So am I," he whispered.

At that, she smiled beatifically. "Spots off," she whispered back, shocking him again. She was doing it _now_?

He felt the familiar tingle of magic, and watched as Ladybug disappeared in a wash of pink light. Marinette— _his_ Marinette—sat in her place.

He gaped, utterly poleaxed for the third time in as many minutes.

"Hi," she said, waving shyly.

He continued to stare, his eyes roving over her beloved face, trying to memorize just how she looked in that moment: smiling, luminous, limned in moonlight.

"I love you," he breathed, because really, it was the only thing he could say.

Her eyes blew wide and he started, realizing that his mouth has come back online before his brain, and that he'd probably just messed things up spectacularly. He didn't regret it, though. It was the bald truth. He loved her as Ladybug and he loved her as Marinette and why he hadn't recognized that the two were really just one wonderful, intoxicatingly beautiful young woman was completely beyond him.

"Chat?"

"I love you," he said again, more strongly this time, and he cupped her cheeks in his hands. "I love you, and all I want in this whole world is to kiss you right now."

Marinette nodded, already swaying closer to him with her lips parted in invitation. He lowered his mouth to hers slowly, his eyes on hers until the very last moment. The first brush of their lips sent a frisson of sensation rippling over his body, and he angled his head to deepen the kiss. At the first tentative touch of her tongue to his lip, he groaned and swept his tongue into her mouth.

As if galvanized by his invasion of her mouth, she echoed his groan and clambered into his lap to press herself as close to him as possible. Her arms went around his neck and his arms went around her body and they lost themselves to the moment, uncaring of the passage of time.

Chat Noir did not come back to himself until she shivered in his arms, and it finally registered that she was shivering with _cold_.

He broke their kiss and rested his forehead on hers, panting.

"Why did you stop?" she asked, sounding almost pouty.

"You're freezing." He rubbed his hands along her arms, and then squeezed them gently. "You're going to turn into a bugcicle."

She laughed, conceding the point. "Tikki?"

Her kwami floated up from the bag, smiling brightly. "Ready to go, Marinette."

"Spots on then, please."

There was another flash of pink, and then she was Ladybug once more. Chat blinked, taking in the sight of her powerful, red-clad thighs bracketing his, and laughed quietly.

"What?"

He shook his head wonderingly. "You, and me, like this. I'd pretty much given up on this as well."

"Oh," she giggled. "I hadn't."

Her words warmed him in a way that he hadn't known he needed. "Are you warm enough now, or should we move this somewhere warmer?"

She hesitated, then deflated. "Still cold, but I hate to leave this place. It's so lovely here."

"We can come back when it's warmer," he pointed out, tapping her legs to indicate that she should get off of him. "Besides, I'd like to show you who I am as well, and I am definitely not dressed for this weather."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened and she nodded. "My place, then?"

"Sure. Lead on, Princess."

* * *

Marinette dismissed her transformation, tingling with more than just magic as she held Chat's eyes.

"It's going to take me a while to get used to that."

"That's alright," she giggled. "I'm sure it will be the same for me."

At the reminder, Chat gulped and rubbed a nervous hand over the back of his head. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"I am," Marinette confirmed, taking his hand, "but are you? I had time to prepare, to psych myself up for it, and I still almost chickened out."

Chat's anxious look melted into a devil-may-care smirk. "Was that a challenge, my lady? Because you know that this Chat would never 'chicken out'."

"Chaaat!" She rolled her eyes. "I'm being serious."

"So am I. Claws in, Plagg."

Marinette stepped back with a gasp, and watched the green light travel up his body, taking the familiar black suit and leaving…a pair of flannel pajama bottoms?

"Ohgodyou'rehalfnaked!"

"Ah, yeah." He looked down at his bare chest with a grimace, and rubbed his hands down over his abdomen as if the motion might make a shirt magically appear. "I told you that I was not dressed for an outdoor reveal."

"I would say not! Aren't you freezing? Here," she said, yanking a throw blanket from her sofa and trying not to ogle his totally ogle-worthy body, "wrap this around yoursel— _ohmygodyou'reAdrien_!"

"I am, yes," he said, laughing. "It's—it's a good thing that it took you that long to get to my face, right?"

Marinette covered her burning face with her hands. "Oh god, kill me now."

"That seems rather extreme," he chuckled, he green eyes crinkling at the corners. "Is it so bad that it's me?"

"No!" Her head snapped up. "Nononono, of course not! I just—I was ogling you and you saw me ogling you and oh god we were _kissing_ earlier and you're _Adrien_ and I'm so sorry, I feel so ridiculous—"

"Marinette!" he interjected, cutting off the flow of her words. Her mouth snapped shut, and she regarded him with big eyes. "It's still just me. Whether you call me Adrien or Chat Noir, I'm still me." He took her hands in his and stepped closer, forcing her to tip her head back in order to see his face. "I'm still your partner, still your friend, still in love with you…and I still want to kiss you."

Marinette blushed, but her wide-eyed expression relaxed into a smile. "Just my friend?" she teased, closing the remaining distance between them and tilting her face up to his.

"If that's what you want," he returned. He lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. "I'll be more if you let me."

"Yes," she breathed, sighing into the kiss as she looped her arms around his neck and thoroughly appreciating the feel of his bare shoulders beneath her arms. "I love you too, you know."

"Mmm," he hummed against her mouth. "I do know, my lady. And I think that might be the best gift of all."


	28. New Tradition

**Summary: Nathaniel realizes that there is something bugging Chloe just before Christmas, and decides to do all that he can to help. (All characters are aged up to their last year in lycée, and the "main six" all have Miraculous.)**

 **This one-shot is my Secret Santa gift for krzed.**

* * *

Nathaniel peered at Chloe's pinched expression and rigid posture and frowned. She certainly wasn't the warm fuzzy type, but she hadn't been quite _this_ prickly since sometime around the beginning of lycée. Yet here she was, glaring for all she was worth (which was a lot) at Mylene, who'd done nothing worse than bump into her after closing her locker. And that had not been an isolated incident, either. Chloe had been snarling at people all day. Even Adrien, who usually had a Midas touch when it came to handling Chloe, hadn't been spared.

"Any idea what's up?"

Nathaniel started, and turned to see that Adrien had stepped up next to him and was watching Chloe with concern. Speak of the devil. "Oh, Adrien. Hey." He returned his attention to Chloe, who was now slamming things around in her own locker. "I wish I did. I haven't seen her like this in ages."

"Me neither. Shall I try to talk to her again, or do you want to give it a go?"

"I will." Nathaniel sighed, and cast a wry glance at his companion. "She's likely to snap your head off if you try again."

Adrien nodded gratefully. "Let me know if you find out what's wrong?"

"Sure." Nathaniel watched Adrien walk over to join Marinette, who had waited for him by the door, and returned her wave when she saw him looking. Then he turned back towards Chloe, took a deep breath, and blew out the breath on a wince when Chloe's locker slammed shut.

Time to face the dragon.

He trailed her towards front of the school, jogging in an effort to out-pace her angry, ground-eating strides. "Chloe! Wait up!"

"Go away, Red," she bit off without slowing or turning. "Don't think I didn't see your sweet little pow-wow with Adrien."

"Ugh, Chlo, it's not—"

"You can run along and tell him that I'm fine, and consider your errand complete."

"Ugh. Chloe!" He got close enough to grab her arm, and he pulled her around to face him. "Just hang on a second, geez."

She slanted a look at his hand on her arm and then speared him with a frosty stare. "You can either take your hand off of me, bird brain, or I swear on my Miraculous that I will scream bloody murder and have you arrested for assault," she hissed sotto voce.

"That won't be necessary," he replied just as quietly, returning her glare with one of his own. His grip slackened, and she yanked her arm away. "But I swear on _my_ Miraculous," he continued, "that if you don't sit down and talk to me I will sic Alya on you."

Her eyes flared, but he was unaffected by her ire. She wilted. "Ugh, fine. You can ride back to the hotel with me and we can talk there." She turned and resumed walking to her car, where her driver stood waiting with the door open, and Nathaniel fell into step beside her. "There was no need to resort to nasty threats."

Nathaniel chuckled. "Threatening to have me arrested wasn't nasty?"

"Anything is better than being the focus of one of Césaire's hunts," she said dryly before ducking into the car.

He followed her into the car and settled himself comfortably against the seat. "Yeah, but _that_ doesn't come with a police record."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes at him, then crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head to stare out the opposite window, effectively ending the conversation.

Nathaniel merely gave a mental shrug. He could stand to wait a few minutes, until they arrived at the hotel and made it up to her suite of rooms. The driver could hear everything they said, after all, and he didn't blame her for not wanting to talk about—well, whatever it was—with an audience. He took the opportunity to text his mom that he was going to be studying with Chloe rather than going straight home, and then spent the rest of the drive staring out of his own window.

* * *

Chloe proceeded to ignore her uninvited guest for the duration of the ride and the whole of their trek through the hotel. Even after the door had closed behind them and they were safely within the walls of her private rooms, she strode wordlessly to her bed and dropped her things to the floor so that she could remove her shoes. (One does _not_ simply kick off Jimmy Choos, no matter how shitty the day.) She put her shoes away with a sigh. Chloe knew that she should say something, but she felt torn between guilt over her behavior that day, irritation at Nathaniel's dogged interference, and gratitude that she hadn't been able to chase him off as she had everyone else. If she opened her mouth she had no idea which feeling would make it out. So, she said nothing, closed her eyes, and flopped backwards onto her bed.

"Chloe."

"Red."

The bed dipped near her legs, and she knew that he'd seated himself on her bed. Presumptuous tomato.

"You can't ignore me into leaving. It's not too late to call Alya."

"It's not too late to have you arrested. For breaking and entering."

He snorted. "You escorted me up here."

"Attempted kidnapping, then."

"I haven't attempted anything, Chloe, and if I did, it would not be kidnapping."

"Rude," she scoffed, and rolled to her side, facing away from him.

" _Chloe_." His voice was soft, warm, and full of both frustration and concern. He shifted on the bed, and then she felt something—his hand?—brush her shoulder. "What happened?"

His words, those three seemingly innocent little words spoken in _his_ soft tenor voice, succeeded in finally tipping her over the edge. She curled in on herself, trying to hold in the burgeoning ball of grief in her chest, but it would not be stopped. The tears that she'd been fighting all day gathered behind her lids and the sob escaped her throat and then it was as if a flood gate had opened.

"Jesus, Chloe, what is it?" She felt his hand on her shoulder again, but he didn't shy away this time and she was glad. "Fuck, I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his hand from her shoulder to her elbow and back as she shook with the force of her tears. "I'm so sorry. Come here."

His hand left her shoulder, and she felt him shift again. Then he was sliding one hand beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, turning her back towards him and lifting her against his chest to cradle her in his arms as if she was precious.

* * *

"I still can't believe that he would just abandon her like that. And at Christmas, no less!"

"Maman."

"You know, I never liked that Bourgeois fellow. I most certainly didn't vote for him."

"Maman!" Nathaniel put a restraining hand on his mother's arm and squeezed gently. "Please, she will be here any minute, and the last thing she needs is to hear you bad-mouthing her father."

His mother's expression softened, and she put one plump hand over his to squeeze him back. "Of course, dear. I know. I just can't believe anyone could be so heartless."

"You should meet Adrien's dad," Nathaniel muttered darkly.

"What was that, dear?"

"Nothing, Maman." He cleared his throat, but the doorbell saved him from needing to say anything else. "I'll get it!"

His mother's chuckle followed him from the kitchen to the apartment door, and he blushed, knowing what his mother must think about all of this. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was making this holiday special enough to keep the shadows from her eyes.

Nathaniel stopped at the door, gave himself a moment to ensure that he didn't look like he'd just raced across the apartment even though he absolutely had, and then opened the door. "Hey, Chloe. Merry Christmas."

"Hey, Red." She shifted from one foot to the other, and hitched her bright yellow designer bag higher on her shoulder. "So, are you going to invite me in, or are we celebrating Christmas in the door way?"

"Oh!" Nathaniel felt his face heat and mentally berated himself for being an awkward idiot right off the bat. _Smooth, Kurtzburg_. "Uh, right. Yeah, come on in."

"Thanks."

She swept past him and moved from the small entry way into their living room, and looked around with interest. He'd been to her rooms many times, but this was her first visit to his home.

Nathaniel stopped next to her and looked around as well, trying to see it all through her eyes. He'd always loved this apartment, small though it was. It was cozy, homey, and there was nowhere else that he felt more comfortable. But now, with Chloe Bourgeois standing in the middle of it, looking beautiful and polished and classy, his home suddenly seemed shabby.

Merde, what the hell had he been thinking, inviting her here? He should have talked with Adrien, should have—

"Oh my goodness, aren't you lovely? You must be Chloe. Nathaniel has told me so much about you, you know. Welcome to our home."

Nathaniel groaned softly, and both women shot him warning looks.

Chloe turned to his mother and gave her a bright smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Kurtzbug. Thank you for allowing me to intrude on your family's celebration—"

"Nonsense, dear. It's Christmas. The more the merrier, and all that."

Chloe smiled again, but this time it was brittle. Nathaniel swallowed his embarrassment and tugged the bag from her shoulder, drawing her attention back to him. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

"Make yourself at home, dear," his mother said, waving them off. "I'll go and check on dinner."

"You mother seems nice," Chloe offered as she followed them up the short hall to the bedrooms.

"She is," he agreed, opening the door to his room and gesturing for her to go in. "You'll be sleeping in here, so you can leave all of your things here."

"This is your room?" she asked, turning slowly in place to take it in.

He blushed again, knowing that she was sure to find the pictures of herself scattered among the art tacked on his wall. "It is."

She looked at him with a slight frown. "Don't you have a guest room?"

"Ah, no, actually." He moved past her to set her bag on his bed, grateful for the excuse to hide his burning face from her. Then he turned to face her again and leaned against his mattress. "We just have the two bed rooms. I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."

Her frown deepened. "Nathaniel—"

"Not all of us live in a hotel, Chlo." She drew back, hurt, and Nathaniel kicked himself for letting his embarrassment prompt him to say something thoughtless. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You'll be most comfortable in here, and I'll be just fine on the couch. I fall asleep out there half the time, anyway."

"I wouldn't have accepted your invitation if I'd known I'd be kicking you out of your bed, Nath," she said, her lips pressed into a pouty moue.

"Then it's a good thing you didn't know." She humphed, and he smiled, then changed the subject. "Where is Pollen?" he asked quietly.

"I'm here!" The little yellow and black kwami popped her head out of Chloe's purse. "Is it safe to come out?"

"Yeah, you're good in here. Duusu has a nest in the top of my closet, and I made you a little hidey-hole up there as well. "

Pollen's eyes widened, and she darted into the closet with a muted buzz. "Honey!" She zipped right back out and made a beeline for Nathaniel's face. He flinched, but she only nuzzled his cheek. "You got me honey!"

"Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "That. I wanted you to have a nice Christmas Eve dinner, too."

Chloe rolled her eyes, but Pollen squealed in delight. "We should come here a lot more often, Flower! I guess he's not such a bird-brain after all."

Chloe sighed. "Go eat your honey, pest."

Nathaniel choked on a laugh. "Come on, Maman was nearly finished with dinner when you got here. I'm sure it's ready now."

* * *

Chloe sank into the ludicrously comfortable couch with a happy sigh and snuggled into the afghan that Nathaniel's mother had insisted on wrapping around her. When she'd accepted Nathaniel's invitation to spend Christmas Eve at his house, she'd thought that it would be nothing more than a decent distraction from the fact that his father had abandoned her to spend Christmas alone so that he could run off to Italy with a woman half his age. The reality was proving to be so much more than that. Both Nathaniel and his mother—Annette, as she'd insisted Chloe call her—had gone out of their way to make her feel both welcome and included even though Christmas Eve was something that they had shared, just the two of them, since Nathaniel had been a small child. Annette had stuffed her full of good food, entertained her with stories of Nathaniel's past scrapes, and then bade her a warm goodnight after dessert.

For his part, Nathaniel had taken his mother's story telling with good grace, even going so far as to embellish the stories with details his mother had forgotten. His earlier anxiety had melted away, thankfully. He'd been so awkward when she first arrived that she'd very seriously considered calling her driver to come right back and pick her up. Now, sitting snug and warm in the dim living room with Nathaniel at the other end of the couch and Christmas tree lights twinkling in the corner, she was very glad that she hadn't. She sighed again, perfectly content with the way things were going, and smiled when she realized that the afghan smelled just like Nathaniel.

"Is everything okay?" Nathaniel asked suddenly, his low voice seeming loud in the quiet of the room.

She blinked. "Yeah, why?"

"You keep sighing."

"Oh, no, I'm—I'm fine. I'm just full. And warm. And, maybe a little sleepy?"

Nathaniel laughed, and nodded. "Sounds like Christmas Eve to me."

"It's always like this?"

"Yeah. Mom and I work all day on getting things ready, then stuff ourselves silly and go to bed early." He looked at the Christmas tree, a small smile lighting his features, and his eyes grew distant. "It started out when I was little, and anxious for Christmas morning, and Maman told me that it would get here faster if I went to sleep." He shrugged, and looked back at her. "Over the years, that turned into this."

Chloe smiled in response, but it was bitter sweet. It was wonderful that Nathaniel had such sweet traditions and wonderful memories, but it drew the absence of her own traditions into sharp relief. She swallowed the lump in her throat and willed herself not to cry.

"Damnit, I'm sorry, Chlo. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't."

He gave her a dry look, then leaned toward her with his hand outstretched. She held still, unsure of what he was doing, and kept her eyes on his as his fingertips slid over her cheekbone and her ear. Then his thumb swept over the delicate skin beneath her eye. When he pulled back, the pad of his thumb glistened wetly in the shifting light of the tree.

She stared at it in confusion.

"You're crying," he said simply. Then he held his arms out and wiggled his fingers beckoningly. "Come here."

Chloe hesitated only a moment before obeying. She didn't think about what she was doing, or why. She just crawled forward, taking the afghan with her, and nuzzled against his chest, accepting the comfort he offered.

* * *

"Should we wake them?" Duusu whispered, his eyes on the slumbering pair before him.

"No," Pollen replied. "Let them sleep. They're comfortable, and my Flower, at least, is better off where she is than she would be if she were alone."

Duusu nodded his agreement, then swept down to the end table with a soft flutter of feathers. "Can you help me with this?" he asked, gesturing to Nathaniel's phone. "They don't know it yet, but at some point they're going to appreciate having a picture of this."

Pollen grinned gleefully. "Clever bird," she said, lifting the phone so that Duusu could take the picture.

"Helpful bug," he replied. "There, what do you think?"

Pollen returned the phone to the table, and looked at the photo on the screen. There wasn't a lot of detail, given the dimness of the room, but there was enough to recognize Chloe sleeping peacefully on Nathaniel's chest, her hand curled in his shirt and a soft smile on her lips. Nathaniel's arms had probably been around her earlier, but he'd relaxed in his sleep and his hands had slid down to rest at her sides.

"I think it's perfect." She grinned at Duusu, and then texted the picture to all four of the other holders—just to make sure that someone saved it. Then she looked back at her own holder, and her smile softened. "Their first Christmas together."

"Perfect," Duusu agreed.


End file.
